What He Does Best
by curlybean
Summary: Neal runs, Peter finds him. That's what they do best, right? Along the way, they just might find a few other things they're good at. Also includes some flashbacks into the time Neal and Ellen spent in Witness Protection.
1. Chapter 1

What He Does Best

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Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and the wonderful people at USA Network. I am merely playing in their lovely little sandbox. No copyright infringement intended.

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Chapter 1

Author's note: This story contains flashbacks to when Neal was in Witness Protection. These flashbacks will refer to Neal as Danny Brooks, his WitSec name, so I hope this doesn't confuse any of you. I hope you enjoy the story.

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Neal Caffrey did what he did best. What he had always done best….he ran.

As he ran, he wondered, not for the first time, why he was so good at running. Was it just in his nature? Was it something inborn in him? Something that generations of Caffreys had excelled at for hundreds of years? Or was it something he had learned to do throughout his life as a means of self-protection? Nature vs. Nurture…which one was it? Or was it maybe just a little bit of both? Whatever the reason, he really wished that he wasn't so good at it.

Running had always felt a little bit like giving up to him. _A person usually ran from things as a last resort,_ _right? When there wasn't any other option but to give in_. And Neal definitely didn't think of himself as someone who gave up easily. That contradicted everything he believed about himself, everything he hoped to be true about the man he had grown to be.

For as long as he could remember, his life had been complicated. He figured that there were probably happy days in the beginning, _before_ his family fell apart, but he didn't really remember them. His earliest memories were mostly just elusive feelings of happiness where his mother and father worked together to make him feel safe and loved. These memories were so vague that he really didn't even believe that they could be real.

His more concrete memories of childhood were fraught with uncertainty, instability, and discontent. He had grown up believing that his father had died when he was three years old, leaving him with a mother who was unstable and barely able to take care of herself, let alone a child. If it hadn't been for his Aunt Ellen, Neal was sure that he wouldn't have survived his childhood.

Growing up in Witness Protection as Danny Brooks had definitely helped to sculpt Neal into an excellent con man. He spent many afternoons- when he should have been in school- in a nearby pool hall, honing his skills as an excellent pool player and hustler. He had quickly taught himself how to forge his mom's writing, making the attendance office at his school think that he was the sickest child they have ever schooled. The proprietor of the pool hall tried unsuccessfully to keep the boy away, but eventually he just gave up.

It wasn't until Aunt Ellen followed him one day and figured out what he was doing that he stopped going to the pool hall. He still cringed at the memory of his Aunt Ellen grabbing him by the ear and walking him out of the pool hall and all the way home, lecturing him the whole way. Once he was home, he listened as Ellen explained everything to his mother, who didn't seem too bothered by the idea of her nine year old son becoming a pool hustler. That day wasn't the first time his mother and aunt had had a colossal argument over the appropriate ways to raise a child, but it definitely was one that stood out in Neal's mind.

By the end of the argument, his mother had thrown Ellen out of the house and then spent the next hour yelling at him for causing so much trouble. Once she was done yelling, she sent Danny to his room with several stinging smacks to his backside, her words ringing in his ears.

"_You're more trouble than your worth sometimes."_

These words echoed loudly in his head, as tears fell down his face, and for the first time, Danny ran.

* * *

Neal remembered that day so clearly, even though it had been more than two decades. He ran as far and as fast as he could that night, finally stopping on the outskirts of town. Once he had stopped, he realized how hungry, tired, and cold he was. He hadn't taken the time to grab a coat before he left, so he had nothing more that the light sweatshirt he had been wearing. The worst part was that everything happened before dinner, so it had been almost seven hours since he had had anything to eat.

Knowing that he wasn't ready to go home, yet not knowing what else to do, he walked over to a nearby building and sat down, leaning against the brick wall. The ground was damp from an earlier rain and he could feel the dampness seeping through his jeans. Even though the dampness was uncomfortable, Danny didn't have the strength to get up. Closing his eyes, he tried to push away the echoes of his mother's words, but in the silence they just seemed to grow louder and louder, until he finally felt the truth of them sink into his bones. Finally giving in, the exhausted boy fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Neal wasn't proud of the fact that he ran when things got sticky, but he did see the intelligence behind such an act. Running wasn't always a desperate, cowardly deed. In fact, sometimes it was a well calculated plan, executed at the most opportune moment. A successful con artist realized the value of a good escape plan in any situation. There was definitely nothing wrong with being well prepared for any and every possibility.

Neal could remember a multitude of times when running had worked well for him, the first time notwithstanding. That particular experience was one that he wished he could burn from his memory. By the time he woke up hours later, Danny had been shivering violently, completely soaked by the rain pouring down. Slowly climbing to his feet, he realized that there was a car parked across the road and that someone was watching him through the window. As fear shot through him, he watched as the door to the car opened and a man climbed out.

"Hey, kid! What are you doing over there?"

When he didn't answer, the man stepped around the door and started walking across the road. Seconds later, he was standing in front of Danny.

"I asked you a question, boy! What are you doing here? This is private property."

Danny's words came out in a stutter, his small body shivering from the cold. "I-I-I was j-j-just r-resting. I d-didn't know th-this was p-p-private property."

"What are you doing out here all alone?" the stranger asked. "You're awfully young, aren't you?'

"I-I'll just g-go," Danny said, as he turned to walk away.

"Wait a minute," the stranger said, grabbing him by the arm. "I'm not going to just let you take off by yourself. It's raining and it's almost two o'clock in the morning, so either I can give you a ride home, you can call someone to come and get you, or I can call the cops. Your choice, kid."

Danny knew that there was no way he was getting into a car with a complete stranger and there was no way he wanted the cops to get involved. Thinking he had no other choice, he agreed to call someone to pick him up. A few minutes later, he found himself standing in a small kitchen, warily eyeing the stranger standing a few feet away as he called the only person he knew he could trust.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Danny stiffened at the sight of the small car pulling into the driveway. He watched as Ellen stepped out of the car and ran up to the front door. As soon as her frantic knocking was answered and the man had led her into the kitchen, Danny found himself wrapped up tightly in her arms.

"Danny Brooks! Do you have any idea how worried I was when your mom called and told me you had run off? What were you thinking, young man? Why would you do such a thing?"

Danny could feel the tears falling down his face again and wondered when he had turned into such a crybaby. "I'm sorry, Aunt Ellen. After you left, mom and I got into a big fight and I had to get out of there."

"Danny, you should have come to me! I'm always here for you. You know that, right?" Ellen searched Danny's face, hoping to see that he really did know that she would always be there for him. She knew that things with his mother were not as they should be, and she wanted him to understand that she would do anything for him.

"I know," Danny answered. "I just got so mad and I needed to get out of there. I didn't even think about where I was going, Aunt Ellen. I just ran."

Ellen pulled Danny into another hug. "Well, that's not okay, sweetie. You should never just run off without a plan of some sort. That just leads to you putting yourself into unnecessary danger."

After a few more minutes of talking, they both thanked the man who had watched over Danny, before heading out to the car. Danny climbed into the car, trying to prepare himself for the expected Aunt Ellen lecture as he buckled his seat belt. Neal could remember vividly that she didn't disappoint that night. By the time they had reached his house, Danny's ears had been burning viciously from the scathing lecture.

* * *

As Neal ran, he thought about the fact that Peter's lectures were usually just as scathing as Ellen's had ever been. He was usually mortified to find himself reverting back to his childhood self in the face of one of Peter's lectures. His face would turn red, his ears would burn, and he could never stop himself from internally fidgeting, as Peter expounded in explicit detail every single thing he had done wrong. By the time Peter was done lecturing, Neal wanted nothing more than to crawl into the nearest corner and bury his face in his hands. Of course, Neal was a rather adept con man, so he was usually able to stay calm and unruffled on the outside, never giving Peter the pleasure of knowing how ruffled he truly was. This, of course, drove Peter absolutely crazy.

At the moment, Neal actually wished that he was sitting in Peter's office, listening as Peter's lecture voice droned on and on. Hell, he even wished that he was sitting in a jail cell somewhere, safe and sound behind the locked cell doors. Either of those options had to be better than what he was currently facing. Either of those options had to be better than the fact that he was on the run again, and this time it was without the relief of knowing that Peter actually understood why he was running.

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Author's note: I would love to hear what you all think of this story. Should I continue? Or just leave it as a one-shot? I have a few ideas of where I could take it, if you're all interested at all. Oh, and I hope the Danny/Neal stuff wasn't too confusing. I tried to make it as clear as possible, but it wasn't easy. Thanks for reading, y'all.


	2. Illuminated

What He Does Best

Chapter 2

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Peter Burke hadn't always wanted to be an FBI agent. Truthfully, in fact, his heart's desire had always been to be a professional baseball player. He made his way through college, eventually finishing with a degree in accounting, and playing college baseball all four years. Upon graduating, he was drafted onto a minor league baseball team, and it seemed that all of his dreams were coming true. Unfortunately, that particular dream had an expiration date, and only two weeks into spring training he suffered an injury that was potentially career-threatening.

Under pressure to make a decision that would affect the rest of his life, Peter returned home and had a much needed conversation with his father. Peter Burke's father was the greatest man he had ever known. His code of ethics and morals was something that Peter always strived to live up to, wanting nothing more than to be the type of man that his father would be resolutely proud of. It wasn't always easy to live up to those expectations, but Richard Burke's approval meant more to Peter than anything.

After much consideration, where the doctor's concern of his recent injury leading to irreparable damage in the future was greatly discussed, Peter decided that it was time to give up his dream of playing professional baseball. Realizing that he was now faced with the prospect of sitting behind a desk crunching numbers for the rest of his life, Peter quickly decided that he needed another option. He spent the next several months talking with his friends and with his father's friends, hoping that _something _would spark his interest.

It wasn't until he went to a career fair at his alma mater that inspiration struck him. He sat through several different recruiting presentations, hoping that he would find his true calling. _Teaching?_ That was a definite no, as kids usually made Peter rather nervous. _Nursing? _Another definite no! The thought of dealing with bodily fluids for the rest of his life made his stomach turn. _How about becoming a Lineman?_ Nope, he was afraid of heights. _Fireman_? That was a possibility, but he didn't think it was really the thing for him. The last presentation he went to seemed unlikely, as well, but it wasn't too long before Peter realized that his interest was definitely stirred. _Could he see himself as an FBI agent? _As he listened to the agent speak of all the possibilities and opportunities within the Bureau, he could feel a spark of excitement ignite within him. By the time Peter left the career fair, he knew exactly what he was going to do with his life.

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To say that Peter Burke was good at his job was a complete and total understatement. From the moment he stepped foot inside the training grounds at Quantico to the present time, Peter had excelled at whatever was expected of him. That this excellence had been accomplished with a quiet humbleness wasn't unexpected by those who knew Peter. He went about his business with the least amount of fanfare he could manage, electing to fly under the radar and get the job done as quickly and quietly as possible.

During his training at Quantico, Peter had been leaning toward working with the Organized Crime unit, but it quickly became apparent that this work was much too violent for him. Instead, he set his eyes on the White Collar division, drawn in by the fact that these crimes were mostly non-violent and the individuals carrying out these crimes were much more intelligent than the common criminal. In Peter's mind, they were much more exciting to catch because of their intelligence and he found that he loved nothing more than to delve into the minds of these intelligent criminals. Had he known that that particular appeal would lead him on the greatest chase of his career, he might have had second thoughts. On the other hand, chasing Neal Caffrey was exactly the sort of thing he loved the most. And, as it turned out, chasing Neal Caffrey was what he did best.

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He had spent more than three years of his life chasing the young criminal they had, unfortunately, dubbed James Bonds. If he had known at the time how much that moniker would delight Neal, he would have come up with something far less flattering. In those three years, he had learned as much as he could about the young man, but there was so much that he never understood. His team couldn't find any information on the man before he turned eighteen. It was like he never even existed, which only served to fuel Peter's obsessive search even more.

Eventually, his obsession started to interfere with his marriage, but Elizabeth was fairly understanding about the situation. Something about the young man was endearing to her. Maybe it was the way he would send birthday and anniversary cards to everyone on the team, especially to Peter. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he would send cookies to the agents when they were on a stakeout. He had even sent an expensive bottle of wine once, frustrating Peter with his audacity. Sure, he was a criminal, but Peter and Elizabeth both knew that he wasn't a bad person, really. More than likely, he was just a _very _misguided young man, in need of proper role models.

All in all, the day that Peter arrested Neal Caffrey was a day of mixed emotions for the agent. Peter knew that the young man deserved to be punished. After all, he was a criminal. But the thought of such a brilliant, creative mind being locked up in a jail cell seemed such a waste. He often found his mind wandering to thoughts of what Neal could have accomplished if he had taken a different path. The kid would have excelled at whatever he put his mind to and his potential was limitless.

As Neal served his time in prison, Peter often found himself thinking of him. Of course, the monthly cards from the kid made sure that he was never far from Peter's thoughts. Peter, of course, didn't reply to the letters, thinking that that wasn't befitting of a senior FBI agent.

The months before Neal escaped from prison, the letters had stopped. Peter had been involved in another high profile case involving a man they had dubbed The Dutchman and he barely had time to think about his wife, much less the fact that a criminal he had put behind bars more than three years before had stopped writing to him. He had been completely taken aback when he learned that Neal had escaped with only four months left on his sentence. _What was the kid thinking?_

Of course, he quickly found out exactly what Neal had been thinking, because the minute it was figured out that Neal had escaped, they had called him. It hadn't taken him long to track the kid down, really. Peter figured that anything Neal was up to had to do with Kate, so taking that into consideration, he found Neal sitting in an empty apartment, staring at an empty bottle of Bordeaux. He had never seen the kid looking so lost and lonely, and his heart broke for the young man.

What happened next still perplexed Peter. Suddenly, he found himself listening to the kid's crazy plan to have Peter slap a tracking anklet on him, so that he could help catch the Dutchman. What was even crazier was the fact that Peter was considering it. They had come to a complete standstill in their investigation of the Dutchman, and Peter was desperate enough to try anything. And Elizabeth had so nicely reminded him that Neal was smart. _"You like smart, remember?"_ she had asked him. And, of course, he really did like smart.

Now, it had been almost four years since that fateful day. Neal had helped Peter and his team catch the Dutchman, cementing Neal's deal to become a confidential informant for the FBI. Of course, that deal included a tracking anklet with a two mile radius, but it was a deal that seemed to work for both of them.

They had quickly discovered that they worked really well together, and everyone watched as Peter's closure rate skyrocketed. They had a few snags in their relationship, of course. After all, Peter was a by-the-book kind of guy and Neal was a color-outside-the-lines kind of guy. Peter often had to rein Neal in, and for the most part, the kid listened to him. Neal, on the other hand, had taught Peter that not everything was black and white.

Through the course of their time together, their relationship had gone through many changes. They often didn't trust each other, but like Peter had once said to a room full of FBI agents, even if there wasn't trust, there was always faith. Nothing had proven this more clearly than the whole situation with Peter's mentor, Agent Kramer.

When Agent Kramer let his true colors shine through, revealing his plan to either see Neal back in prison or take him back to DC to work with him, Peter had realized just how far he was willing to go to protect Neal. He had given the young man the signal to run. He had allowed Neal to escape an undeserved sentence, even if it meant that his own career was put in severe jeopardy. For the first time, he had truly realized how important Neal was to him, and that had been a life-changing moment for the agent.

While Neal was gone, Peter spent a lot of his time analyzing their relationship. He couldn't put a definite label on it, because there were just too many facets to consider. They were, of course, partners and friends, but, he knew that they were much more than that, too. Somewhere along the line, Peter had come to think of Neal as family. At first, it was a big brother/little brother kind of thing, but if Peter were honest with himself, he would admit that he usually saw Neal as much more than even that. Somewhere along the way, Neal had become like a son to him.

He knew that the age difference between them really didn't support that, but the feelings he had for Neal had nothing to do with age. Peter had always been rather mature for his age, and Neal was obviously, despite his intelligence, much more child-like. Well, maybe he was closer to being an impulsive, hormonal, rebellious teenager who knew exactly which of Peter's buttons to push on a daily basis.

This realization had rocked Peter's whole world. He suddenly felt an immense, soul crushing sense of responsibility for Neal and knew that nothing was more important than bringing the boy home where he belonged. Again, Peter had jeopardized his whole career for Neal and he had paid dearly for his decision to do whatever it took to bring him home. Once Neal had returned, a little worse for wear after being shot by Peter's fellow agent, Peter found himself demoted down to the Evidence Warehouse, otherwise known as the basement level of the FBI. He didn't regret his decision, though. In his mind he knew that he had done the only thing he could have done. Somewhere along the line, Neal had become more important to him than his career. He would gladly go back to crunching numbers behind a desk if it meant that Neal was safe and sound. He would gladly sell hot dogs in the park if meant that Neal was treated fairly.

Of course, this realization didn't fix everything. Peter still found Neal to be frustratingly irresponsible and impulsive at times. He still found himself lecturing the kid time and time again on his choices. And boy, were those lectures exasperating. Neal would sit in front of him, looking completely unruffled except for a small blush that usually crept up his neck, while Peter yelled and lectured relentlessly. By the time he was done, Peter usually felt like crawling over to the corner and banging his head against the wall in frustration. He knew that Neal probably tuned out at least half of what he had said and the other half he would completely disregard the next time around. Peter suddenly found himself feeling bad about every bit of trouble he had gotten himself into when he was a teenager. He knew now how frustrated his father must have felt at times.

At the moment, Peter was trying to keep his frustration level under control. He had received a call from Jones a few minutes earlier, telling him that Neal was currently outside of his two-mile radius and that his anklet seemed to be malfunctioning. Peter had no idea what was going on. Neal had left work early, claiming that he wasn't feeling well, or so he had said. Peter had wanted to pry a little, but he knew that Neal deserved some privacy. Now, he found himself wishing that he _had_ pried, at least a little bit.

After several calls to Neal's phone, which hadn't been answered, Peter sent Jones over to check out Neal's apartment, hoping that the kid had just fallen asleep. He also sent Diana to track Mozzie down, just in case Neal wasn't at home. Once they were on their way, he sat down at his computer to try to track Neal's anklet. To his complete horror, Neal's tracking anklet had been completely deactivated. The thought of Neal being out there all alone and with no way to track him was almost too much for Peter to handle. _What was going on?!_

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Author's note: Wow! For some reason, the desire to continue this story was completely overwhelming. I really have no idea where it's going, but it's demanding to be written. Please don't expect daily updates, but I couldn't resist posting this one as soon as I finished. I know these first two chapters aren't as long as my usual ones, but I'm sure they will get longer as we go along.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I would love to hear your thoughts on the story so far. Thank you so much for giving another one of my stories a try. I hope I can live up to your expectations. Thanks for reading!


	3. The Art of Losing

What He Does Best

Chapter 3

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Author's note: Just a reminder that Neal will be referred to as Danny in the parts dealing with his childhood. Hope this doesn't confuse you. Also, there is a small mention of spanking in this chapter, but absolutely no details of said event.

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Looking back on the day he was having, Neal realized that it had been doomed from the start. He had gone to bed rather late the night before, thanks to Mozzie and several bottles of wine, and as a result had overslept that morning. Usually, he was waiting outside for Peter to pick him up for work, but instead Peter had nearly knocked the door down, trying to wake Neal up when he didn't answer his calls. He had jumped in the shower and dressed as quickly as he could, but Peter still seemed fairly annoyed.

By the time they had reached the office, Neal had been forced to sit through a mini lecture on responsibility and accountability. He remembered thinking that he had really wanted to shove those two words up Peter's nose before they were even halfway to the office.

Once they were settled in the office, Peter reminded Neal that there were several case reports that needed to be finished. Neal tried to pawn it off onto some junior agent, but a quick glare from Peter prompted him to rethink that idea. Hours later, he was still diligently working on the reports and nursing the beginnings of a spectacular headache.

Lunch had been a complete disaster, too, starting with the argument between Neal and Peter as to where to eat. Peter wanted to just hit one of the hot dog stands out in front of the building, but Neal wanted to go to a decent restaurant- one that actually had utensils and dishes. After about ten minutes of arguing, Neal found himself sitting outside of the FBI building by the fountain with a New York City hot dog in his hand. He watched in clear repugnance at the way Peter scarfed down his own hot dog, wondering how the man had ever landed a woman as classy as Elizabeth.

Just as they were heading back into the FBI building, Neal saw something that shook him to his very core. He thought he had heard someone call out his name and when he looked around, he was shocked to see someone from his long ago past, standing just feet away from him. In his shock, he hadn't even realized that the man had called him by the name of Danny, instead of Neal.

Thinking back on it now, Neal realized that he had been completely off his game. For so long, he had always kept himself in check, but for some reason this time he had been caught completely off guard. Peter knew about Danny Brooks…. to a certain degree, but Neal knew that there was still so much that his partner didn't know. He also knew that if he had anything at all to do with it, it would stay that way. There were things in Neal's past that were better left unknown.

Ignoring the man who had called out to him, Neal had followed Peter into the building, hoping that it was all just a mistake. _Maybe the man had been calling out for another Danny._ _Maybe Neal had mistakenly identified the man as someone he had prayed that he would never see again._ _Or, maybe the man was there to apologize for all of the agony he had put him through all those years ago. _

Whatever the reason, Neal had walked away as quickly as he could.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon hadn't been much better than the morning, much to Neal's disappointment. By the time he had finished his reports and had sat through a long and tedious staff meeting, his headache had grown to epic proportions. He had found it extremely hard to sit still throughout the meeting and had been the recipient of several menacing glares from Peter, so when the torturous meeting was finally over, Neal hadn't been surprised when Peter called him into his office.

Peter, of course, quickly started lecturing Neal again on responsibility and accountability, but Neal had completely tuned him out. After several minutes, Peter had realized that Neal was paying even less attention than normal, and for the first time thought that maybe something besides boredom was bothering the young man. At that point, Neal felt as if his head might actually explode, so he did the only thing he could do…..he admitted to Peter that he wasn't feeling well and asked to go home early.

Peter looked like he wanted to question the man further, but luckily for Neal, he didn't. He could tell that his partner wasn't feeling well, but he also felt that something else was bothering him. Neal wished now, with everything he had in him, that Peter would have been his usual nosy self. Maybe then, he wouldn't be in the situation that he was currently in.

* * *

Once Neal had left the FBI building, he attempted to hail a cab. The first three cabs that drove by were already taken, but one finally stopped for him, much to his relief. Sinking into the back seat, Neal gave the driver his home address and then closed his eyes and laid his head back against the seat. He kept his eyes closed for several long minutes, trying to breathe through the throbbing ache inside his head. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to be working.

Opening his eyes, Neal realized that they were in a part of New York that he wasn't familiar with. Sitting up straighter, he caught the driver's eye in the rear view mirror.

"Excuse me, I think you're going the wrong way. I said 351 Riverside Drive."

Neal felt the first flutter of unease stir within him when the driver completely ignored him. The man focused his eyes back on the road, before flicking them back to the mirror.

"Did you hear me?" Neal asked. "I said I think you're going the wrong way."

When the man still didn't answer, Neal realized that something was going on. "Stop the car," he said firmly, but of course, the man ignored him. Neal quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket, intending to call Peter, but before he could do that, the man slammed on the brakes, causing the car to jerk to a stop. Neal wasn't prepared for that and his phone flew out of his hand, falling on the other side of the cab. Before he could reach for it, the driver turned around, and Neal suddenly found himself face to face with a powerful looking hand gun.

* * *

Neal hated guns. It wasn't that he was afraid of them, really. In fact, Neal had a robustly healthy respect for guns, something that had been repeatedly drilled into him by his Aunt Ellen. His fear had more to do with the effect a gun had on a man's ego. Guns made men feel powerful and entitled…..invincible even. Men with guns didn't have to operate under the same rules as other men, not that Neal usually operated under those rules, either, but for an entirely different reason. Guns were dangerous and men with guns were unpredictable.

Neal remembered the first time he had ever held a gun. He didn't know it at the time, but both his mother and his Aunt Ellen kept guns at home to protect them from the men that his father had been working for. From an early age, Ellen had told him that he was never to touch a gun and she made sure that he understood the consequences of disobeying. Neal, of course, had to learn the lesson the hard way.

He remembered coming home from school one day when he was eight to find his mother gone. It wasn't very often that he came home to an empty house, but Neal didn't mind. Things between him and his mother were often so awkward, mostly due to the fact that everything about him apparently reminded her of his father. They spent most evenings either arguing or trying to stay out of each other's way, which didn't work too well in such a small house.

Neal had happy memories of his childhood, but very few of them involved his mother. She was merely a shadow of the woman she used to be before their lives had been turned upside down and Neal was young enough that he really didn't remember that version of his mom. All of his happy childhood memories he owed to his Aunt Ellen. She had always been the one constant thing in his young life and without her, Neal knew that he would have simply withered away inside.

That being said, Ellen was a force to be reckoned with when she was angry and Neal had never seen her as angry as she was the day that she caught him holding his mother's gun. He had gone into his mother's room to look for some money, thinking that he would walk down to the pool hall to get some food, since the cupboards were nearly bare again. Looking in all of the usual places his mother would hide her money, he came up empty-handed, but just before leaving the room, he decided to check under her bed, where he found a small locked box.

Neal's lock-picking skills were something he had developed at an early age, thanks to the fact that their bathroom door had a faulty lock. For some reason, any time the door closed the lock would engage, so both he and his mother had learned to pick the lock. He was much better at it than his mother was and he enjoyed doing it so much that he practiced on other locks, as well.

Sitting on his mother's bed with the locked box in his lap, Neal remembered that it had taken him only a few minutes to open the box. Inside the box, he found quite a bit of money, but he was more interested in the handgun nestled into the stack of bills. He remembered thinking that he should close up the box and put it back under the bed, but even at that early age, his impulsive nature overwhelmed his common sense. Without a second thought, he had taken the gun out of the box and held it in his hand.

He had been surprised at how heavy the gun was, especially since it was so small. Looking around to make sure that no one was watching, he stood up and started aiming the gun at different things. Danny had always had an active imagination and seconds later he was involved in a play-acting scene where he was a heroic cop like his dad, chasing after a criminal. He was so involved in his make-believe scenario that he didn't hear the front door open or hear his Aunt Ellen call his name. He didn't hear her footsteps on the stairs, either, so he was completely surprised when she suddenly appeared in the doorway of his mother's bedroom. He was so surprised, in fact, that he accidently squeezed the trigger of the gun, shooting a bullet straight into his mother's dresser mirror. Before he could process what had happened, Ellen had moved across the room and grabbed the gun out of his hand.

"Danny Brooks, what are you doing?! Where did you get that gun?" Ellen yelled.

"I-I found it," Danny answered. "I'm sorry, Aunt Ellen. I didn't know it was loaded!"

Ellen quickly unloaded the gun before falling down onto the bed, her legs too weak to support her.

"What were you thinking, Danny? You know better than to touch a gun. Don't you remember anything I said?"

"I'm sorry," he pleaded.

"Danny, you could have accidentally shot yourself! You could have shot me or your mother! Guns are not toys, young man. I've told you that a dozen times, at least."

By that time, Danny had been in tears, especially at the thought of accidentally shooting Ellen. What happened next was forever emblazoned in Neal's mind. He remembered Ellen lecturing him for at least thirty minutes, before she upended him over her knee for a well-deserved spanking. By the time she was done, Danny had decided that he would never touch a gun again. Looking back on it, Neal knew that the spanking wasn't the worst part of the whole situation. Knowing that he could have killed Ellen and knowing that he had disappointed her so much were the worst parts for him.

The rest of the evening hadn't been much better, really. By the time Tessa Brooks came home, Ellen was completely worked up. Danny had been sent to his room, but he listened as Ellen yelled at his mother for what seemed like hours for keeping the gun loaded. His mother argued, of course, that the gun had been locked away, but Ellen was still angry.

"You know how he is, Tess. He's impulsive and hasn't yet learned how to corral his curiosity. He's only eight years old. You have to be careful, especially with something like a loaded gun."

By the time they were done arguing, he had been completely exhausted. Neal remembered laying there in the dark, thinking that his mother would surely come in and check on him, but instead he had listened as she walked past his room and into her own room. Minutes later, Ellen had quietly opened his door and he had pretended to be asleep.

* * *

Now, Neal found himself face to face with a very angry man holding a handgun. His phone was still on the floor of the cab and as Neal looked at it, he realized that his tracking anklet was blinking red. A surge of hope erupted at the thought of Peter realizing that he was outside of his radius. He knew that Peter would be trying to track him down within minutes. Unfortunately, the man with the gun also seemed to know this.

Neal was surprised when the man handed him a key that looked like it would fit his anklet.

"Take it off and give it to me," the man demanded.

"Where did you get the key?" Neal asked.

"Never mind that, just do what I said," the man barked as he thrust the gun even further into Neal's face.

Neal took the key and did what he was told. Seconds later, he sat back up, handed over the one thing that would make sure Peter could find him, and watched as the man threw it out of the window where it was sure to be crushed by a passing car.

"Okay, now hand over your phone," the man demanded.

Neal grabbed his phone and handed it over, as well. Now, he felt completely helpless. The man kept the gun trained on him as he considered his next step, looking thoughtfully between Neal and the road in front of him.

"Move over to this side of the car," he finally said, "and slowly open the door. If you do anything other than what I tell you, I'll blow your head off."

Neal didn't doubt the man for a single second. Slowly opening the door, he waited for the man's next direction. Eventually, the man had maneuvered Neal into the driver's seat and he sat next to him with the gun pressing into Neal's head.

"Now, drive," the man barked. "And don't do anything stupid."

Neal drove back onto the road and followed the man's directions. He knew that if he was going to make a move of any kind, he would have to do it soon, but he still didn't have much of a plan. As they drove, the traffic became thinner and thinner, until they were the only car on the road. Twenty minutes into the drive, the man's phone rang and he quickly answered it.

"Yeah, we're almost there," he said into the phone. "Ran into a little problem, but it's all under control now. We should be there in about fifteen minutes."

After hanging up the phone, the man turned back to Neal, jabbing the gun into his neck. "Slow down. You're taking these curves a little too fast," he said.

Neal eased up on the gas, hoping that it was enough to satisfy the man, without giving away too much of his poorly thought out plan. The road they were on was a fairly treacherous road with numerous curves and Neal thought that maybe he could use that to his advantage. Of course, his plan didn't really insure that he would escape unscathed, but for some reason he thought it would be better than the alternative. He had no idea where this man was taking him, or who he was working for, and he really didn't want to wait around and find out. He knew he had to get himself out of the situation, one way or another.

Up ahead, Neal noticed an oncoming curve with warning signs to slow down to twenty-five miles per hour. Instead of slowing down, Neal pressed his foot on the accelerator, hitting the curve at well over fifty miles per hour. Right as he turned into the curve, he slammed on the brakes, causing the car to fishtail before rolling over several times and finally coming to rest against the trunk of a large tree. Even though Neal had been somewhat prepared, his body had been mercilessly beaten against the door and window. His passenger, on the other hand, had been completely blindsided by the crash.

Neal looked over to find the man conscious, but not really aware of what was going on. The gun had been thrown out of the man's hands and Neal searched frantically for it, without any luck. When he couldn't find the gun, he searched even more frantically for a phone, finally finding one wedged under the seat. The man next to him was starting to become more alert, so Neal quickly grabbed the phone and climbed out of the car, figuring that his best bet was to get himself away from the man.

Climbing out of the car, he quickly realized that there was something wrong with his right leg and that his chest felt like it was on fire. He hobbled away from the crash as fast as he could, which really wasn't very fast, and ran into a small copse of trees. Once he felt like he was hidden well enough, he took a few minutes to do a mental inventory of his various injuries. His right leg was hurting quite a bit, but he didn't think it was broken. He was pretty sure that he had several bruised or broken ribs, though, and the left side of his head was bleeding where he had probably struck it against the window. He also could feel the effects of the airbag deploying and the seatbelt restraining him. All in all, he was pretty sore, but thankful to be alive.

After his mental inventory was complete, Neal grabbed the phone, eager to make a call to Peter. Unfortunately, the screen on the phone had been obliterated and Neal felt his heart sink at the thought of the phone not working. He pushed several buttons and was relieved to finally hear a sound from the phone. After several tries to get the number right, he finally heard the beautiful sound of the phone ringing. He was even more relieved when he heard the sound of his partner's voice.

"Special Agent Peter Burke…Who is this?!"

"Peter, it's me. I need…"

Before Neal could say anything else, a shot rang out and he actually felt the bullet whizz by his head. Seconds later, another bullet flew at him, this time sinking into his right shoulder and slamming him into a tree. Upon impact, Neal dropped the phone and slid down to the ground, his head throbbing where he had slammed it against the tree. He could hear his partner's frantic voice, calling out to him over the phone, but he couldn't seem to figure out where the phone had gone. Right before he passed out, Neal was able to string two more words together, hoping that Peter was able to hear him.

"Peter….help…"

* * *

Author's note: I can't believe I actually found time to write in this busy season, but I thought that my awesome, amazing readers deserved a holiday treat. I'm sorry I left you all hanging on a cliff, but I need to get some sleep before I go to work tonight, lol. Merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate this joyous holiday. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I would love to hear from all of you.

Thanks for reading!


	4. Finders, Keepers

What He Does Best

Chapter 4

* * *

Warning: Mentions of abuse

* * *

Peter grabbed his phone, hoping against all hope that it was Neal calling him. When he looked at the number, he realized with a sinking heart that he didn't recognize it.

"Special Agent Peter Burke…..Who is this?!"

"Peter, it's me. I need….."

Relief shot through him at the sound of Neal's voice, followed by a quick flash of anger.

"Neal, where the hell are you?!" Peter demanded. His righteous anger quickly turned to terror when he heard the distinct sound of gunfire coming over the phone, followed by a piercing cry from Neal. He wasn't sure, but he thought that maybe Neal had dropped the phone, too.

"NEAL! What's going on?! NEAL!"

Peter frantically threw a pen at the window of his office, hoping to get the attention of one of the agents working down below. He was relieved to see that Diana heard the pen hit the window and was making her way up the stairs as quickly as she could. As he watched her ascending the stairs, he listened desperately to the phone clutched to his ear. He could hear Neal's anxious voice, as well as more gunfire and shouting from another source. His blood ran cold as he heard his partner's voice one last time before the connection ended.

"Peter…help…"

* * *

Neal couldn't believe that he had passed out. Logically, he knew that he had been shot and that he had just been in a roll-over car accident, as well, but he wasn't usually the type of guy that passed out. The only other time he could remember ever passing out was when he was ten and had taken a tumble off of his neighbor's rooftop, landing on her shrubbery bush before bouncing off and landing on his back. According to Ellen, who had seen the whole thing happen, his head had bounced off the ground rather viciously and he had lost consciousness for several minutes.

After staying overnight in the hospital, Neal had gone home with a headache and a bruised back. He also had a bit of a bruised ego after the dressing down he had received from Ellen in front of several of the hospital staff. She wasn't particularly impressed with his antics, especially when she realized what he was doing on the rooftop to begin with. She definitely didn't want to hear any excuses or lies, so he had quickly explained to her how his motorized airplane had landed on the neighbor's roof and he had climbed up to get it down. Of course, Ellen knew that that particular motorized airplane was supposed to be a Christmas present for the boy, who had obviously been snooping in his mother's room again. Neal still remembered the continuation of the lecture he had received once they were home, not to mention the threat to the well-being of his backside if Ellen ever found out that he was snooping again.

All of these thoughts seemed to dart through his mind like lightning, as he tried to gain his bearings. Opening his eyes, he quickly realized that he was in a pitch black room. He could feel a wall behind him, as well as the carpet underneath him, and even though he couldn't see a thing, he knew that the room he was in was really small. It was also really cold.

As he lay there, he did another quick inventory of his injuries, not at all surprised to find that his shoulder hurt like hell. Reaching up to investigate, he was surprised to find that someone had actually taken the time to bandage his wound. _Who would have done that? _

He still felt significant pain in his ribs, head, and leg, too, but other than that, he only felt a general sense of achiness, compounded by the cold that enveloped him. All in all, he figured that he was actually pretty lucky. Well, if you could call being locked in a cold, dark room with a gunshot wound, probable broken ribs, and a concussion lucky, that is.

Once his mental inventory was done, Neal listened intently to the sounds around him. At first, he just heard a gentle susurration, but eventually he could make out the sounds of several different voices and the humming of some sort of machinery. Something about the humming of the machinery struck a chord in Neal and it wasn't long before he was able to recognize it. It was the sound of a printing press.

That sound alone drove Neal to the conclusion of where he was. Well, not necessarily where he was, but at least he knew who was behind it all. Neal shivered at the realization that he was once again firmly in the clutches of Silas Dmitri.

* * *

Once Peter realized that he had lost the connection to Neal, he strode to the door of his office, opening it just as Diana was about to barge through.

"Boss, what's going on? Did you find Neal?"

Peter felt like he was about to lose it, so he forced himself to take several deep breaths before answering his agent. After several long seconds, he was finally back in control.

"He called me, Diana, but something happened. I heard several gunshots and I think he might have been shot."

Diana looked at Peter in horror. "You think?" she asked.

"I heard a gunshot and then I heard Neal cry out, Diana," Peter explained. "It didn't sound good."

Looking down at the agents in the bullpen, Peter searched for Jones.

"Where's Jones?" he finally asked Diana.

"He just called from Neal's apartment," Diana answered. "He said that there's no sign that Neal ran. All of his clothes are there, not to mention a rather large sum of money he found stashed behind some books."

"All of that doesn't matter now," Peter said. "Neal's in trouble and I need every available agent on this."

"Okay, Boss. What do you want us to do first?"

"I need you to check with every precinct. Find out if there have been any calls regarding the sounds of gunshot. I also thought I heard the sound of a train whistle in the background. I know that's a longshot, but see what you can find out. Oh, and have one of the tech guys check out my phone. Maybe they can find out something about the phone Neal was using."

Peter watched in satisfaction as Diana jumped into action, organizing the other agents along the way. He knew that they had very little to go on, but he also knew that his team would stop at nothing to find Neal. As he stood there watching everyone, he geared himself to do the one thing that he did best. He geared himself up to find Neal Caffrey. Again.

* * *

As Neal sat in the dark, cold room, he couldn't stop his mind from replaying every single interaction he had ever had with Silas Dmitri. Neal had been twelve years old the first time he had met Silas, and he remembered taking an instant dislike to the man.

It wasn't unusual for his mother to bring a man home for dinner every once in a while, and for the most part they were nice men. For some reason, though, his mother didn't seem to like the nice ones for very long. Just as Neal had gotten used to one of them, she would break it off, citing various different reasons why it just wouldn't work out with them.

_He's too boring. Too lazy. Too short. Too poor. Too ugly. Too nice. _In reality, they just weren't dangerous or exciting enough for Tessa Brooks. She didn't want someone that liked to stay in at night and watch movies or take long walks on the beach. She wanted someone that would take her out dancing. Someone that rode a motorcycle or drove a fast car. She wanted someone that played outside the limits of the law… a bad boy.

Once she realized that, Neal remembered being subjected to men that were more than just a little scary. Most of them didn't like the fact that she had a kid, so he had learned to either stay in his room or get out of the house as much as he could. Neal didn't like the woman that his mother became when she was around these men, either. He couldn't stand the sound of her fake laughter or the way she acted dumb and silly around them.

The day that Silas Dmitri entered their home was a turning point in Neal's young life. His Aunt Ellen had taken on a new job and the time Neal got to spend with her was cut severely short, causing him to greatly miss her. Her new job also meant that he had to spend more and more time at his own home. He always felt like he was walking on eggshells in his own house, and it was only at Ellen's house that he felt like he could be himself.

Neal remembered he had been sitting at the dining room table with his sketch pad and pencils scattered all around when his mother walked in, leading a very tall, very big, dark-haired man.

"Danny, what are you doing?!" she yelled. "You've made such a mess of my kitchen!"

Neal remembered looking around, trying to find the mess his mother was talking about. All he saw was a glass sitting in the sink and a dish towel lying on the counter. _So much for a mess_, he thought to himself.

Before he could defend himself, though, his mother sat down at the table next to him. "Silas," she said in a sickeningly sweet voice. "This is my boy…..Danny, this is Silas."

Danny stood up and stuck out his hand, trying to remember his manners. The large man grabbed his hand, squeezing it harder than was necessary as he looked Danny over.

"He's a scrawny little thing, isn't he?" the man said with a cold grin.

Danny glared at the man, offended at being called scrawny. He was rather small for his age, but he definitely didn't think he was scrawny.

"Next to you, I think even Arnold Schwarzenegger would look scrawny," Danny grumbled.

A thunderous look immediately crossed over the man's face. "I think you need to teach your boy a little something about respecting his elders, Tess," the man growled.

Tessa stood up and crossed back over to Silas, placing her hands on his chest and looking up into his eyes, before turning back to her son.

"Apologize for your rudeness, right now, young man!" she demanded.

"Why?!" Danny exploded. "He started it, mom. He called me scrawny!"

"Danny Brooks, so help me…you had better drop the attitude, young man!"

Danny knew when he was cornered, so he quickly offered up a rather insincere apology. Luckily for him, no one seemed to notice that he didn't mean a word of it. Once he was done, his mother told him to clean up the mess on the table and then to go to his room.

"Wait a minute….." Silas interrupted. "Did you draw these, kid?"

Danny didn't feel like answering, so he just nodded. He cringed on the inside when Silas picked up each sketch and stared at it for several long seconds.

"You drew these yourself," he said, as if he were trying to convince himself of that. "Without any help….."

Danny nodded, wondering what the big deal was. He knew he was a good artist, but these particular sketches were really just doodles. He had no idea why the man was so interested in them and he really didn't want to stay and find out. Without another word, he gathered up everything on the table and left the room as fast as he could. There was something about Silas Dmitri that scared Danny.

* * *

Unfortunately for Danny, his mother seemed to really like Silas Dmitri and the man became an increasingly large part of their lives. Danny had learned early on that the man wasn't afraid to use his hands to keep him in line, but even more devastating than that was the fact that his mother did nothing to stop him. In fact, whenever Silas was around, his mother treated Danny in much the same way.

Danny's response to that was to make sure that he spent as little time as possible at home. Hoping that his Aunt Ellen wouldn't find out, he started hanging around the pool hall again in the afternoons. He had decided that maybe it was a good idea to start stashing some money away, just in case he found himself needing to run, so he quickly set up a hustling scam with some of the hall's most frequent patrons. Anytime someone new wandered in, Danny would spring into action, and by the time he was done, his pockets would be filled with bills.

Unfortunately, though, there always came a time when he had to go home. Neal could remember those walks home, constantly praying that Silas Dmitri wouldn't be there when he got home. More often than not, the man would be and Danny would try to slip through the door and head straight to his room.

When Danny was thirteen, things changed for the worst. To his complete and utter horror, his mother and Silas Dmitri were married. Neal could remember how his Aunt Ellen had spent hours trying to talk some sense into his mother, but Tessa Brooks had made up her mind. She loved Silas, she reasoned. Silas was good to her and to Danny, she said. Silas would be the father that Danny so desperately needed, she argued.

Danny tried to convince his mother and aunt that he would be better off if he lived with Ellen, but his mother quickly refused.

"You're my son and you belong here with me, Danny. With Silas here, we're going to be a new family."

Danny argued, but his mother was adamant that her new family would stay together. With that, Danny's new nightmare began.

* * *

It wasn't long before he found out what kind of man Silas Dmitri really was. After the wedding, Silas started bringing some of his friends to the house, where they would sit around the kitchen table for hours, drinking vodka and whiskey. Danny had no idea what they were talking about, but he did notice that they would often have blueprints to some building spread out on the table in front of them. One night, after the men had left, Danny went downstairs to get a drink and noticed that the blueprint was still spread out on the table. Looking around to make sure that Silas wasn't anywhere around, he looked at it closely, trying to figure out what it was.

From what Danny could tell, it looked like the blueprints to a bank. He wondered what Silas and his cohorts could be planning, but he knew better than to ask. Instead, Danny started to snoop around a little more, anytime Silas had his friends over. He was usually pretty good at snooping, but of course his luck was bound to run out eventually. The night it happened was one of the scariest nights of his life.

Danny, by that time, had finally figured out that Silas and his friends were planning on robbing a bank to get at some sort of valuable bond that was stored in its vaults. Even though he knew that what they were planning was wrong, he couldn't help but feel intrigued by the whole thing. As he listened, he figured out that their plan was to replace the bond with a counterfeit one, making it less likely that someone would find out if they were able to get in and out without notice.

Danny was hiding behind the couch, listening to everything they were talking about, when it happened. One minute he was kneeling down, trying to control his breathing so as not to give himself away, and the next minute he was being lifted up by the collar of his pajamas by a man that had apparently just come out of the bathroom.

The look on Silas Dmitri's face when he realized that his step-son was spying on them was terrifying. Before Danny could do anything, Silas had crossed the room and backhanded him across the face. The slap had been so powerful that the man holding onto Danny had lost his grip, causing the boy to fall to the ground. For several long seconds, Danny stayed on the floor, curled up into a tight ball, until Silas finally picked him up and carried him out of the room. That had been the first time that Silas Dmitri had taken his belt to Danny.

* * *

As Neal shivered in the cold, the memories of his time with Silas nearly overwhelmed him. He had always thought of himself as a competent, strong man, but the presence of Silas Dmitri seemed to transform him back into his thirteen year old self.

He suddenly felt powerless and defenseless and he knew that if he were to survive this ordeal, he needed to get a grip on himself. Yes, Dmitri was a powerful man, but Neal had proven time and again that he was smarter. He had been in worse predicaments and had found ways to escape, so as he sat in the dark room, shivering so harshly that his bones were starting to ache even more, he cleared his head and tried to figure out a way out of his current situation. His only consolation was knowing that Peter was doing his very best to find him.

* * *

"Any luck?" Peter asked Diana as soon as she walked into his office.

"Not yet, boss. You'd be surprised at how many calls were made reporting the sound of gunshots at that time. The list is long, but I have at least ten agents checking on every report."

Peter dropped down into his chair, frustrated at the fact that they really had nothing to go on. Before anything else could be said, Jones flew through the door with a strange look.

"Peter, I don't know if this is anything important, but Precinct 34 just got a report of a taxi cab being stolen a block from here. The driver said that a man with a gun forced him out of his cab and then drove off with it. The tech guys are trying to track the GPS right now.

Peter jumped up and followed Jones out of the office. He had a feeling that they finally had a lead!

"_Hang in there, Neal,_" he said to himself. "_I'm coming._"

* * *

Neal's head was pounding fiercely and he was doing everything he could not to lose the meager contents of his stomach. His mouth was so dry and he desperately needed to use the bathroom, so all in all, he was completely miserable.

As he tried to keep his mind off of his multiple discomforts, he tried desperately to come up with a plan. Slowly standing up, he walked around the room, trying to figure out where the door was. After almost a complete circuit of the small space, he finally found what he thought was the door. Of course, he wasn't surprised to find that the door had no door handle and no foreseeable way to get to the door hinges, either. He was hoping that maybe they had just stashed him in a spare closet, but it was obvious that this particular space was made to securely hide someone away.

The space itself was no more than an six by six foot space and Neal was thankful that he wasn't prone to claustrophobia. After walking around the small space three separate times, he sat back down next to the door, trying to think through his extremely limited options. Just as he had figured out that his only option was to wait for someone to open the door from the outside, he heard a key being inserted into the lock.

The door opened and Neal was blinded by the bright light that poured into the space. He could tell that someone was standing in the doorway, but until his eyes adjusted he wouldn't be able to see them clearly. Seconds later, this became a moot point, when Neal heard the unmistakable voice of Silas Dmitri.

"Hello, Danny…Did you miss me, son?"

* * *

Author's note: First off, I want to apologize for the wait. Since I left you all with a little bit of a cliffhanger in the last chapter, I really wanted to update quickly. Alas…the holidays were a little busier than expected, so I didn't get a chance. Anyway, I finally found some time to write and I really hope that you enjoy this chapter. Poor Neal has found himself in a little bit of a tight spot, but don't worry…. Peter's doing everything he can to track down his partner.

I'm hoping the back and forth isn't making things too confusing to read. If it is, let me know, okay? I love to hear your thoughts on Silas Dmitri and the story as a whole, too. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. And Happy New Year to you all!


	5. A Little Help, A Little Hope

What He Does Best

Chapter 5

* * *

Peter couldn't believe their change in luck. Once they had the GPS information from the stolen taxicab, they were able to find the location where he had last heard from Neal. Within minutes, Peter and his team were on their way to the location, not knowing what they were going to find.

Peter was terrified that he would find his partner already dead, having bled out while he was waiting for Peter to find him. He was also terrified that he wouldn't find his partner at all. The drive to the location seemed interminable to everyone, but mostly to Peter, who couldn't seem to stop thinking about the last words he had heard from Neal. _"Peter….help…."_

He had known Neal for over eight years, and in that time he could count on two hands the number of times the man had asked for help. The first time, of course, had been when Neal had asked him to consider the idea of allowing him to consult for the FBI. Peter remembered thinking that the young man was completely delusional, if he thought that that particular arrangement would ever work, but then Peter had surprised himself by pushing to have Neal released into his custody.

That arrangement _had _worked and was _still _working, even though there were a few (or a lot of) bumps along the way. Neal definitely attracted trouble and most days required everything Peter had in him to keep the kid on the straight and narrow, as much as he could.

The second time Neal had ever asked for help was when he was looking for Kate. Peter knew that he had let the young man down severely on that point. He thought that Kate was bad news for Neal, and he really didn't want to help find her, thinking that the young man would be better off if he never heard from her again. That had almost led to Neal running away and had ultimately led to his partner almost being killed in the same explosion that had taken Kate's life. Peter didn't think that he could ever truly forgive himself for that.

Neal had also asked for help when it seemed that Agent Fowler from OPR had set him up in a rare diamond heist. For the record, Neal had asked for Elizabeth's help first, because he knew that Peter was convinced that he had something to do with the theft. Peter was ashamed to remember the lack of faith he had had in his partner during that case, and he was grateful that his wife had been there to talk some sense in him.

There had been a few other times where Neal had obviously needed help and Peter had been there to offer it, but for the most part the young man was mostly self-sufficient. Perhaps that was why the desperation he had heard in Neal's last words was so devastating to him. Neal always had a plan, always had an idea forming in his genius mind, but he could tell by the sound of his voice a few hours ago that he was trapped. And he knew that a trapped Neal led to a reckless Neal. He had to find his partner before he did something impulsive and stupid.

* * *

Neal was still trying to get his eyes to adjust to the brightness of the lights outside of the small room he was in as it flooded around him. There was no mistaking who the silhouette belonged to, even if Neal hadn't already identified the voice. He had spent many sleepless nights hiding away from the man who was now standing in front of him.

As his eyes slowly adjusted to the light, Silas Dmitri walked further into the small room, stopping only inches away from Neal. Neal struggled to stand, not wanting to give the man any more of an advantage than he already had.

"Stay down, Danny," Silas said in mock concern. "You're injured."

"My name is Neal," Neal growled. "I'm not Danny anymore. And I wouldn't be injured if it wasn't for your stupid thug."

"Now, now…..There's no reason to be disrespectful and rude, Danny. It's your fault that you got shot, remember? If you would have just acted like a good little boy and let Victor bring you in without a fight, none of this would have happened. As it is, you've cost me a decent car and however much I'll owe my doctor for the house call and supplies to patch you up. You always had a way of making things harder on yourself, boy. I guess you never outgrew that particular character trait."

"What do you want, Silas? Why am I here?" Neal couldn't help the small groan that escaped him as a spasm shot through his shoulder. He hated to show any weakness in front of the man, but he couldn't really help it. After all, he had been shot rather spectacularly just a few hours ago.

"There will be time to talk about that later, Danny," Silas answered. "Right now, I think that you could do with a little rest. I'll have my _thug_ bring you in some food and water, and then you should get some sleep."

"**My name is Neal**," he growled again. "And you can't keep me here, Silas."

"You should know by now, Danny, that I can do whatever I want when it comes to you. You'll do good to remember that." With that, Silas leaned down and ruffled Neal's hair before turning and walking out the door.

Neal suddenly found himself shrouded in darkness again, but this time it was a welcomed sight.

* * *

Once they arrived at the scene, they quickly found the wrecked car. Jones and a few other agents started to process the area around the car, looking for anything that might lead them to which direction the car's passengers had gone. It didn't take long for them to determine that someone had walked away from the car, heading southeast. Jones quickly informed Peter and seconds later they were carefully, but quickly heading into the copse of trees nearby.

Diana was the one that found the place where Neal was shot. Peter ran over to where she was, relieved to see that there wasn't a body lying on the ground. His relief promptly vanished, though, when he saw what looked to be a rather significant amount of blood on the tree trunk and saturating the ground at his feet.

"Damn it!" he swore. "That's a lot of blood! And is that Neal's hair sticking to the trunk?"

"Boss, look at this," Diana said, as she bent down to look at something in the long grass nearby.

Peter looked down to find what could only be the phone that Neal had used to call him. There was some dried blood on the phone and the glass screen had been completely shattered, but Peter hoped that the tech guys would be able to pull some information out of it anyway.

As he looked around some more, Jones hurried up to his side.

"Peter, we have a second set of tire tracks over there. It looks like maybe someone came and picked up Neal and whoever else was here. We followed the tracks back to the road and it looks like they headed east, but that's all we can tell so far. ERU should be here any minute and we can get this scene processed."

"Thanks, Jones," Peter answered quietly. He really didn't know what else to do, seeing as how their lead had promptly dried up for the time being. "Stay here with the team until ERU gets here. Diana and I are going to take a ride up the road, see if anything pops up."

Peter knew it was a long shot, but there was no way he was going to just go back home. His partner was out there somewhere and it was apparent that he had been shot. He wasn't about to give up his search yet. Neal needed him.

* * *

Victor did indeed show up a few minutes after Silas left with a plate of food and a bottle of water. Neal's first inclination was to throw the food in his face, but he knew that he needed to eat to build up his strength. Without saying a word to the man, he took the plate and the bottle from him.

Victor stared down at Neal for several long seconds before finally speaking. "You're lucky that the boss man said we weren't to touch you, boy, or else I'd knock a few of your teeth out. Seems a fair price for the three you cost me when you made me wreck the car."

Neal wished that the light was bright enough to see the man with his teeth knocked out. Hearing that Silas had warned his men not to touch Neal did little to cheer him up, knowing well how much Silas enjoyed dishing out physical punishments himself. His time spent with Silas as he was growing up had left many scars, both physical and mental, and Neal was all too familiar with how the man operated.

After eating the congealed soup and hardened bread, he slowly drank the bottle of water, aware that his stomach was starting to rebel. Between the aching pain in his shoulder and the excruciating stabbing pain in his head, Neal was surprised that he was still conscious. Once he was halfway done with the water, he moved his body gently into the corner of the room and leaned his head against the wall. He had no idea what he was going to do, how he was going to get himself out of this situation, so he closed his eyes and let his consciousness settle into a fragile sleep.

* * *

By midnight, Peter and his team were exhausted. After processing the scene in the woods, their case went cold and Peter had no choice but to call it a night. He and Diana had driven around for hours, looking for something unusual to catch their eye, but nothing happened. After suggesting several times that they head back to the office, to which Peter refused, she finally admitted that she was exhausted and starving. Peter suddenly realized just how long they had been driving around and he agreed to head back into the city.

By the time he arrived at home, he was emotionally, physically and mentally done. He wasn't surprised to find Elizabeth waiting up for him, knowing that she would be just as worried about Neal as he was.

"Any news yet?" she asked the minute he walked in the door.

"Nothing, El," he sighed. "We tracked him to a spot outside of the city, but then the trail went cold. I have a team that's monitoring the area, and every hospital in the greater New York area has been put on alert, but for now I have no idea where to go from here."

"Are you hungry? I could warm up something for you."

"That would be great, hon. I'm going to go take a shower first, okay?"

After planting a quick kiss on his wife's cheek, Peter turned and walked wearily up the stairs, wanting nothing more than to wash off all of the dirt and despair from his body. Once his shower was done, he stepped into the bedroom to find Elizabeth waiting for him with a plate of leftover chicken and rice. She waited for him to climb into his side of the bed and then handed the food to him. Without a word, she climbed into bed next to him and watched as he picked at the food.

"He'll be alright, hon," she whispered. "He's smart, remember? And you'll find him, just like you always do."

"I hope so, El," Peter answered. "I can't lose him."

* * *

When Neal woke up several hours later, he had to add a stiff neck and a sore backside to his growing list of injuries. The coldness of the small room was seeping into his bones and he suddenly realized that he needed to urinate. Badly.

Just as he was considering that he might have to use his empty water bottle as a urinal, the door to the small room creaked open again. A man that Neal had not seen before stood in the doorway for several long seconds before finally speaking.

"Get up!" he demanded.

Neal knew he should just do as he was told, but he didn't want to give in so easily. "Why?"

"I said get up!" The man demanded even louder.

Knowing that he really didn't have much of a choice, Neal tried to get up. Unfortunately, his legs had fallen asleep on the cold floor and his arm was of absolutely no help to him. Before he could try to get his legs to work again, the man stepped into the room and grabbed him by his injured shoulder. Neal couldn't help the cry of pain that escaped him.

Seconds later, the man was dragging him out of the room and Neal was temporarily blinded by the brightness of the room he found himself in. It took several seconds for his eyes to totally adjust to the light, but when they finally did, he looked around carefully.

Neal didn't recognize where he was, but he could tell that he was in an older looking farm house. If he wasn't in so much pain, he might have taken some time to appreciate the charm of the house, but it took too much out of him just to remain standing. Just when he thought his legs might give out on him, the man led him out of the room they were in and into another one. This time, the man pushed him over to a sofa and Neal, with less grace than was his norm, fell into the seat. His shoulder hit against the back of the sofa, but Neal was able to contain the cry of pain that threatened to escape.

He sat there for what seemed like hours, the pressure in his bladder growing to near torturous proportions, before Silas Dmitri showed up with another man in tow.

"Danny, this is Dr. Kincaid. He's the one that patched up your shoulder and he's here to give you a checkup."

Neal couldn't help but be annoyed at the fact that Silas was acting as if everything was perfectly normal, that he hadn't kidnapped Neal and was in fact holding him hostage. To Dr. Kincaid's credit, he looked as if the whole situation was more than unpleasant. Neal had a sudden thought that perhaps he could use the doctor to get a message to Peter.

"Danny, how are you feeling?" the doctor asked, as he poked and prodded at Neal's various injuries.

"My name is Neal," Neal said for the third time. "Not Danny. And I feel like I've been in a car accident, shot in the shoulder, and then locked away in a closet for hours on end. That's how I feel."

Before he could say anything else, Silas spoke up. "Dr. Kincaid is here to take care of you, Danny, so you would do well to cooperate with him. And show some respect."

Dr. Kincaid continued to check Neal out thoroughly, before turning to Silas with a frown. "He's running a fever, Mr. Dmitri. His shoulder could be septic, so he needs some antibiotics."

"Well, then give him some antibiotics, doc," Silas said.

Dr. Kincaid turned back to Neal. "Are you allergic to anything, Danny?"

Neal immediately saw a chance to get a message to Peter with the doctor's question. "It's Neal, and yes, I am. I had a severe reaction to two different antibiotics last year, but I don't remember which ones. It's in my record at Mt. Sinai."

Dr. Kincaid turned back to Dmitri. "I can't give him any medication without verifying his allergies, Mr. Dmitri. If I gave him the wrong one, he could die."

Silas eyed Neal warily, as if he suspected that he was up to something. After much thought, he seemed to come to the conclusion that there was no point in the man making any of the allergy stuff up.

"Fine," he said. "I'm sure you can find a way to check with the hospital about his allergies without raising suspicion, right?

"It won't be a problem," Dr. Kincaid answered.

Neal felt a faint glimmer of hope that somehow Peter would be notified that someone was checking Neal's medical history. Once that happened, Dr. Kincaid wouldn't be hard to track down and Neal figured that he wouldn't be a hard egg to crack. Especially if Diana was around. That woman could be downright scary at times.

* * *

Once the doctor was done with Neal's checkup, he left, promising that he would be back in a few hours with the appropriate medication for him. As Neal expected, Silas told his thug to take him back to his room.

"Wait," Neal interrupted. "I really need to use the bathroom, if you don't mind."

Silas eyed Neal closely again, before turning back to the other man. "Shane, take him to the bathroom and don't take your eyes off of him, do you understand? Not for a second!"

Shane didn't look too happy at those instructions, but he grabbed Neal by the arm and led him to a bathroom on the second floor. Neal walked into the bathroom while Shane stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking everywhere but at the man he wasn't supposed to take his eyes off of. Neal used that to his advantage by taking a quick look around the bathroom, hoping to find something that could help him.

It wasn't until he was finished using the toilet and was in the process of washing his hands that he spied the pair of tweezers and a lone safety pin sitting on the counter. Pushing them deep into his pant pocket, he turned back to a red-faced Shane.

"I'm ready, if you are," Neal said with a smile.

Shane completely ignored him.

* * *

Peter woke up feeling worse than he did before going to bed and he knew that his restless sleep had kept Elizabeth up, as well. His sleep had been riddled with different kinds of nightmares, all revolving around him being unable to help Neal out of various situations.

He showered and dressed as fast as he could, wanting to get into the office and back to work immediately. He had already spoken with both Jones and Diana, neither of whom had anything new to report.

After a quick breakfast and cup of coffee, he gave his wife a kiss and left with her strict instructions to call the second he found out anything at all ringing in his ear. The commute to the FBI building at that time of the morning was usually long and dull, but Peter spent the whole time going over every single aspect of the case again and again. He was hoping that maybe they had missed something, but he knew that that was highly unlikely. He worked with some of the best people in the business and he knew that they were all very thorough.

Once he arrived at the office, he called a meeting to go over everything with the team. Just as he was finishing up a rehash of the case, a junior agent interrupted the meeting.

"Agent Burke? A call just came in from Mt. Sinai, sir," the agent said breathlessly.

Peter's heart sped up and he suddenly felt as if he should sit down, before his legs gave out and he ended up on the floor.

"Is it Neal? Is he there?"

The junior agent suddenly looked embarrassed at not realizing that the wrong conclusion might have been drawn from his statement. "No, sir…he's not there. Um…..apparently someone showed up at the hospital this morning asking to see Caffrey's medical records. His records had already been flagged, so they knew to call us immediately."

Peter felt a small spark of hope ignite inside of him. "Do we have the name of this person?"

"Yes, sir," the agent answered. "His name is Aiden Kincaid and he's a doctor."

Peter turned to his team with a fierce look in his eyes. "Find Dr. Kincaid!"

* * *

Author's note: Sorry for the long wait. I think I'm still lagging a bit from the holidays, but it's getting better, lol. The next chapter shouldn't take quite so long.

Thank you so much for reading and for reviewing. I would love to hear your thoughts on the story so far.


	6. Somewhere Along The Way

What He Does Best

Chapter 6

* * *

Back inside the small room, Neal settled in to think everything over. He had a decent idea of just exactly what Silas had in mind and he definitely didn't want any part of it. Anything Silas Dmitri was involved in had the tendency to get him into trouble.

Neal's thoughts soon focused on his memories of how his life changed once Silas had married his mother. On one hand, he couldn't remember ever seeing his mother so happy, but on the other hand, he couldn't remember ever being so sad himself. Once Silas moved into their house, Danny was either completely forgotten about or the intense focus of his new father's wrath. It seemed that he could never do anything right in the man's eyes and, more often than not, his mother seemed to take Silas's side. Danny spent as much time as he could away from the house, either spending time with his Aunt Ellen or hanging out with a few of his friends.

To his dismay, though, Silas suddenly seemed to want to keep him at home as often as possible. Danny was instructed to come straight home after school and was never allowed to leave the house. The times that he disobeyed were met with harsh punishment at the hands of Silas Dmitri. It broke the boy's heart that his mother would stand by and allow Silas to punish him so harshly.

Several months into the despair of his new life, Danny finally learned what Silas Dmitri was all about. He had never understood why the man was so interested in his artistic talent when everything else about him seemed to send the man into hateful rages, until one day just before his fourteenth birthday.

Danny walked home from school, walking as slowly as he could without getting himself into trouble for being late. Walking through the front door, he realized that there were two men sitting at the table, talking with Silas. He tried to sneak up the stairs to his room, but was stopped by the dreaded sound of his step-father's voice.

"Boy, get in here," Silas yelled.

Danny set his backpack down on the stairs and slowly walked into the kitchen. Silas pointed to an empty chair and he quickly sat down, hoping not to make the man mad.

"Danny, these are two of my work colleagues. I've been telling them how good you are at drawing things and they wanted to see for themselves."

Danny couldn't believe that Silas and his "colleagues" were actually interested in his art, but he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he just watched as Silas placed a sketch pad and a few charcoal pencils in front of him, followed by a postcard that he pulled out of one of the kitchen drawers.

"I want you to show them how good you are, boy. Copy this postcard, okay?"

Danny looked at the postcard, looked at the three men sitting in front of him, and then shrugged his shoulders. Seconds later, he started sketching the simple postcard, not bothered at all by the three men watching him so closely. Whenever he was drawing or painting, he tuned everything else around him out, focusing solely on what he was doing. Had he looked up at the two new men, he would have noticed how the looks on their faces changed from disbelief to absolute shock as he continued to draw.

Once he was done, he handed the drawing over to Silas, who handed it over to one of the men.

"See? I told you he was amazing. What do you think?"

Danny couldn't believe the words that came out of his step-father's mouth. _Did he really think that he was amazing? Was he actually proud of something that he had done? _ Before Danny could continue on in that vein of thought, one of the men spoke up.

"You were right, Dmitri. With the kid, we can move our plan along now. Everything's falling into place, finally."

Danny had no idea what was going on and before he could find out, Silas sent him to his room. Just before he stepped out of earshot, he heard the second man speak.

"Do you think he'll help us, Dmitri?"

"He doesn't have a choice," Silas answered. "If he knows what's good for him, he'll do exactly as I say."

* * *

Neal had no idea how much time had passed since he had returned to the dark room. He had a watch on his wrist, but the room was pitch black, without even a sliver of light coming from underneath the door. For some reason, not knowing what time it was or how long he had been there was driving him completely mad.

Neal knew that sensory deprivation was often used as a means of relaxation and sometimes as a way to heighten other senses or to even facilitate creativity. He had also read how sensory deprivation could be used as a means of torture. Sitting in a dark room, not even able to see your own hand in front of your face, and having no sense of time was definitely torturous for a man like Neal, who always had a robust sense of self-awareness and awareness of everything around him.

As he sat there, he couldn't help but think of the nearly four years he had spent in prison not so long ago. He remembered feeling as if he had lost his sense of self then, as well. Every day had been full of monotony and hopelessness. Every night had been full of the sounds of men crying in their sleep and of the past echoes of lives outside of cell bars. Each night before he climbed into his bed, Neal drew another tally mark on his cell wall, marking off the multitude of days that he had survived behind those cell doors. Sometimes he looked at those marks with a sense of awe, amazed that he was actually surviving in such a cruel place. Other times, the marks brought a sense of despair so overwhelming that it was all he could do not to drop to the floor in a sobbing heap.

Thinking about his time in prison reasonably led him to thinking of Peter Burke, the man that Neal so often thought of as his savior. Peter Burke was definitely an enigma, or as Mozzie would say, he was what happens when an enigma gives a paradox a very special hug.

Neal had no idea why Peter ever agreed to his proposition. He knew that the man had a healthy respect for his cleverness and intelligence after chasing him for so long, and he knew that Peter was desperate to catch the Dutchman. He was also aware that Peter knew Neal better than anyone had ever known him, really. Even better than Mozzie or Ellen. He knew that Neal's offer to help the FBI was steeped with his desire to find out what had happened to Kate. The man knew that Neal had ulterior motives, but he was still willing to take a chance on him. With that realization came a sudden desire to not disappoint Peter Burke. Neal was surprised to find that he really cared about what Peter thought of him.

As they continued to work together, even after the Dutchman had been caught, Neal began to realize that being on the right side of the law for a change wasn't that bad. Of course, he still liked to pull a con every now and then, but he was quickly learning that rightfully earning his way in life had a definite appeal, as well. For the first time in a long time, he felt truly good about what he was doing in his life.

Despite the fact that he liked the way things were going, he couldn't completely step away from his life as a con man. Neal had used his silver tongue, quick hands, natural charm, and ability to fit into whatever role he needed to for so long that it was a part of him, imbedded in his psyche. He often found himself using these traits without conscious thought, something that continually frustrated Peter.

Neal suddenly found himself smiling at the memory of Peter's frustration the day that he had walked downstairs to find him sitting on the couch with Elizabeth, petting Satchmo. That frustration hadn't lasted long, of course, but Neal could remember many more moments of frustration. He was pretty sure that Peter's hair had significantly grayed since their partnership began. _Maybe he should apologize for that when he saw Peter again._

Neal wasn't sure exactly when the partnership he shared with Peter evolved into something more, but somewhere along the way it had. It started with the first invitation to dinner he had received from Elizabeth, several months into it. There were also a few times that Elizabeth had insisted on Neal staying overnight at the Burke house when the weather was poor or he had had a bit too much to drink. He even remembered a time when he had come down with a cold and Elizabeth had insisted that he stay over so she could take care of him.

Another incident that changed their partnership was the infamous Howser Clinic debacle. Neal had been devastated to hear that June's granddaughter, Samantha, had been bumped off the kidney transplant list and had been determined to do whatever he could to help right that wrong. He had met Samantha on several different occasions and the two of them had immediately bonded over long games of Scrabble and Monopoly. Neal remembered being completely astounded that June felt comfortable enough with him to allow him to spend time with her granddaughter.

Wanting desperately to help, Neal had gone about things in a completely impulsive and reckless way, according to Peter. Getting caught inside the Howser Clinic had been a dangerous mistake in so many ways and Neal was thankful that Peter had caught on to his "Jimmy Burger" reference. He hadn't counted on being drugged and shackled to a gurney, and he definitely hadn't counted on Peter Burke stealing the surveillance tape that would have ultimately led to Neal going back to prison.

That had definitely been a turning point in their relationship, and Neal hated the fact that Peter had to go against his personal moral code to keep Neal out of trouble. He had, of course, sat through a very exhausting, relentless lecture on the consequences of poor decision making and impulsivity that had left his ears ringing for quite some time. Fortunately, Peter's lecture had been offset by the TLC heaped on him by Elizabeth that evening. _She really was one of a kind_.

That, of course, wasn't the only time that Peter had to bail Neal out of trouble. To be fair, Neal had bailed Peter out of trouble on several occasions, too, but it wasn't really the same. Those occasions were usually brought about by Neal's complete inability to follow Peter's orders, too. He definitely had a bad habit of taking matters into his own hands, despite the frequent Peter Burke lectures.

Somewhere along the way, Neal realized that Peter and Elizabeth had become a surrogate family to him. He vacillated between thinking of Peter as an over-protective, frustrating older brother and, believe it or not, a father figure. To think of Peter as a surrogate father was a little overwhelming to Neal, really. He had had two father figures in his life and both of them had turned out to be completely inadequate and disappointing. His real father had turned out to be a dirty cop who had murdered another cop, something that Neal had been shocked to find out when he was eighteen. Silas, of course, was a sadistic man who would do anything or hurt anyone to get what he wanted. Neal had learned that the hard way.

Peter Burke was a complete polar opposite of both of these men. His sense of morality, of what was right and wrong, was rock solid. He was an honest man who tried his best to live an honest life. That wasn't to say that the man wouldn't color outside the lines or bend the rules when needed, though. He respected the letter of the law, but he knew that justice wasn't always black and white, and that there were times when the black and white merged into shades of gray. Neal sometimes had to help him discern which shade of gray they were dealing with, but the man always did what was right.

As he sat there in the dark, Neal's heart ached at the complete realization of how much trouble he was in. He wondered what Peter was doing to find him and he trusted that the man was doing everything he could. He just wished that he would hurry up!

* * *

Peter's frustration was growing by the second. The biggest lead they had so far was turning into the most difficult lead to follow. Jones had quickly researched Dr. Aiden Kincaid and had discovered that the man was a well-respected physician at the Lincoln Medical Center in the Bronx. He also discovered that the man had taken a sudden leave of absence, citing a dire family emergency as the reason.

Unfortunately, Jones quickly discovered that the only family the man had was a younger sister who resided in a long term care facility for the mentally and physically handicapped. Peter immediately dispersed Diana and two other agents to the facility to see if Dr. Kincaid had recently been there.

Almost an hour later, he received a call from Diana, informing him that Dr. Kincaid had been there two days prior, but hadn't been seen since. Peter's heart fell at her words. He had desperately wanted to hear that she had found the man sitting next to his sister's bed, but instead they were right back at square one.

The rest of the day was much of the same. The agents that had been sent to check out Kincaid's house reported back that the house was empty and that there was no evidence of anyone being there recently. On their way out, Kincaid's neighbor had stepped out and informed them that the man had left on vacation over a week ago. Another dead end…..

An APB had already been placed on Kincaid, so Peter had nothing else to do but sit back and wait, hoping that someone would find the man soon. He felt a sudden desire to go home and see his wife, hoping that she could offer some sense of comfort to him. Leaving strict instructions for his team to call him the minute anything changed, he grabbed his jacket and went home.

* * *

Elizabeth couldn't help the worry that had settled deep inside of her at the thought of Neal being out there all alone. Somewhere along the way, the young man had wormed his way into her heart and she cared deeply for him. She often felt a profound sadness wash over her at the thought of the life that Neal had led, and she found herself wanting to mother him. She knew very little of his childhood, but from what little her husband had told her, she knew that it wasn't ideal.

Once Neal started to let his defenses down a little, she noticed a sweet, sad vulnerability about him. He seemed to soak up any tidbit of praise sent his way, especially if it came from Peter. He also seemed to wilt in the presence of Peter's disappointment, although the wilting was subtle enough that she doubted her husband even noticed. Peter didn't always catch onto things very quickly, especially if it involved emotions.

She also noticed a change in her husband lately. She was sure that the man wasn't even aware he was doing it, but on several occasions she had noticed him gazing at Neal with a look of what could only be called paternal pride. She wasn't sure when it had started, but somewhere along the way, Peter Burke had started to see Neal as more than just a partner.

She had listened as Peter talked about his partner's antics at work with a sense of amusing frustration. She had comforted him when he came home after a particularly harrowing operation, where Neal had undoubtedly been in some sort of danger. She had worried right along with him as they both watched Neal struggle to deal with first Kate's death and then Ellen's. She had watched as Peter's heart broke whenever Neal did something to land himself in trouble. She knew that Peter wanted to protect the young man, but sometimes Neal made it nearly impossible.

Having Neal in their lives had definitely changed them as a couple, much like when a child was added to a family. Elizabeth had spent many lonely nights when Peter was first chasing Neal. She had eaten dinner by herself more times than she could count while Peter and Neal were working on some case. She had opened her home and her heart to a con man who drove her husband to the brink of frustration on a daily basis. Any argument the two of them got into usually involved Neal Caffrey, in one way or another.

Despite the fact that their lives seemed to be in a constant state of upheaval, thanks to Neal, Elizabeth knew that she wouldn't have it any other way. Neal was family now.

* * *

Once Peter got home, he gave his wife a peck on the cheek before heading up to take a long, hot shower. Before he made it up even a few stairs, his wife's voice halted him.

"Peter Burke, don't even think about going upstairs without telling me what's going on."

Peter turned and gave Elizabeth a pathetic look. She could tell how exhausted he was, but her concern for Neal overruled her concern for that. She _needed_ to know what was going on.

"There's nothing new, El. We have a few leads, but they're really not going anywhere."

Elizabeth could hear the defeat in her husband's voice and it was breaking her heart.

"You'll find him, Peter. You always do. It's what you do best, remember?"

* * *

Neal could hear voices right outside the door and he figured that someone was about to pay him a visit. He hoped that it was the man named Shane, but when the door opened he could tell that it was Victor. Without a word, the man walked in and grabbed Neal by the hair, pulling him to his feet. Neal was barely able to hold in the cry of pain he felt when Victor slammed his shoulder into the doorjamb on the way out.

Once he was in the kitchen again, Neal wasn't surprised to find Silas staring at him.

"You're not looking too good there, Danny-boy," he said with a laugh.

Neal didn't respond, not trusting his voice to come out without squeaking. Instead, he stood as tall as he could and kept his eyes on Silas.

"Well, it seems that you don't find me quite so intimidating anymore, Danny, do you? Somewhere along the way you've grown a backbone."

"I'm not fourteen anymore," Neal said, happy to hear that his voice came out strong. "However, based on the number of times I've had to tell you that my name is Neal, I can tell that you're still just as stupid as you used to be."

Neal saw a look of pure rage flash over Silas, before he was subjected to a solid punch to his gut by Victor. Leaning over, Neal tried desperately to catch his breath, but before he could, another solid punch landed on his right kidney. That punch took Neal down to his knees and he struggled to get back up. Just as Victor looked like he was going to throw another punch, Silas stopped him.

"Leave him to me, Victor," he demanded.

Victor stepped back away from Neal just as Silas stepped forward.

"You never could learn to keep that mouth of yours shut, could you?! How about I help you figure out a way to do that? Just like the old days….."

Neal looked up just in time to be backhanded harshly across the cheek. His head was jerked sideways by the force of the blow and his ears were ringing intensely. Within seconds, another backhanded slap crossed his other cheek, wringing his head in the other direction. By this time, a few tears had leaked out of Neal's eyes, but he had yet to utter a single sound. He was able to hold himself together until he heard the unmistakable sound of a leather belt being pulled through the loops of the man's pants.

Suddenly, Neal felt as if he were his teenaged self again, helplessly facing a man that was twice his size. Without putting any thought into it, he quickly turned and ran from the room as fast as he could. Unfortunately, it wasn't fast enough.

* * *

Peter woke up out of a dead sleep at midnight. He had been so tired that as soon as dinner was over he had allowed Elizabeth to lead him to bed. He had fallen asleep within minutes of his head hitting the pillow.

Now, looking around the room, he wondered what had awoken him. Seconds later, he heard the distinctive sound of his phone vibrating on the table next to him. Sitting up, he grabbed the phone and without even taking the time to see who was calling him, he answered.

"Agent Burke."

"Peter, it's Jones. We found Kincaid!"

Peter sat up even straighter. "Where?! How did you find him?"

"We got a positive idea from our APB. Kincaid stopped at a convenience store in Rochester and a local police officer recognized the make and model of his vehicle. He's in custody and is on his way here, as we speak."

Peter stumbled out of bed, looking for his pants. "I'll be there as soon as I can," he told Jones.

After hanging up the phone, he continued the search for his pants. Stumbling around in the dark, he was surprised when the bedroom light suddenly came on.

"Peter? What's going on?" Elizabeth asked.

Peter looked up at his wife in excitement. "We just found the guy that's going to lead us to Neal, hon," he answered.

* * *

Author's note: Whew! I'm sure glad they found Dr. Kincaid, aren't you? Peter needs to find Neal soon, because I think Silas is getting a little tired of dealing with him. It looks like things are about to get ugly for poor Neal, leading me to wonder why exactly I love Neal whump so much.

Thanks so much for taking the time to read this story. I hope you're enjoying it and I would love to hear your thoughts on it. Take care.


	7. The Past Is Catching Up With Me

What He Does Best

Chapter 7

* * *

Neal woke up to find himself inside the dark room with no idea of how he had gotten back in there. The last thing he remembered was trying to escape the wrath of Silas Dmitri. He had attempted to run out of the farmhouse, but in his weakened state he hadn't made it very far. In fact, he had barely made it out of the kitchen before Victor had grabbed him and forcefully led him back in to face his step-father. From that point on, Neal had only fragments of memory of what had transpired. In between the fall of Silas's fist and the fall of his belt, Neal had repeatedly blacked out. He realized now that the blackouts were a simple mercy, allowing him to keep his fragile mind intact.

Taking another quick inventory of his injuries, he realized that things could be much worse. His shoulder was throbbing, most likely from when Victor had pulled him back into the kitchen. His face was throbbing, too, from the multiple punches that had been thrown his way. But, the worst of his injuries was the throbbing and burning in his back from where Silas's belt had fallen time and time again.

For some reason, being whipped by the man's belt again was worse than anything the man could have ever done to him. Neal couldn't help but remember every single time the man had punished him in such a way. Each fall of the belt had taken something from the young boy, so many years ago. Each time it happened, he had hoped with everything he had in him that his mom would come to him and comfort him. Each time, he was left alone to cry himself to sleep. That, more than anything, had been the worst of it.

Trying to take his mind off of the pain he was feeling, Neal's thoughts took him again to Peter Burke. He had witnessed the great Peter Burke in action many times and knowing that the man was undoubtedly doing everything he could to find him at that very moment made the aches and pains lessen a little. Neal couldn't stop himself from thinking again how much he owed Peter. He also couldn't stop himself from thinking that there was no way he could ever appropriately pay the man back for everything. All he ever seemed to do was shower the man with headaches and heartaches, something for which he felt extremely guilty about. Peter deserved so much better, and Neal was pretty sure that he would never live up to that.

Curling up in a tight ball, Neal allowed the despair he felt to wash over him. No one was around to witness the woeful shattering of the young man's heart.

* * *

Entering the interrogation room, Peter eyed the young man before him very closely. Dr. Kincaid was the complete physical opposite of Neal Caffrey. He was shorter than the average man and had a stocky build, supported by abnormally short legs. His blond hair was straight and limp, his smile uneasy, and his nose a bit too long for his face. He sat before them in a wrinkled, off the rack suit, nibbling nervously on his fingernails. He obviously had none of the sophisticated charm that Neal possessed in spades.

Peter introduced himself to the man and took a seat next to Jones and directly across from their potential witness. Peter could see the beads of sweat that were forming on the poor man's forehead.

"Dr. Kincaid, I'm not sure how much you've been told of what's going on, so I'm going to start from the beginning. My partner is missing and I think you might know where he is."

Aiden Kincaid didn't respond. Instead, he fervently fixed his attention onto his fingernails, studying them as if he didn't know who they belonged to. Peter cleared his voice and tried again.

"My partner, Neal Caffrey, went missing two days ago, Dr. Kincaid. I have reason to believe that he was taken by someone dangerous. I also have reason to believe that somewhere in the process of his kidnapping, he was shot."

Peter paid close attention to the man's face as he said those words, hoping to see some tell give the man away. He wasn't surprised when Kincaid suddenly stopped biting his fingernails and looked nervously up at him. _The man definitely knew something._

"What does any of this have to do with me, Agent Burke? I'm just a doctor. I work at Lincoln Medical and I'm usually in bed every night by nine o'clock. And I've never heard the name Neal Caffrey before. I think you might have mistaken me for someone else."

"Actually, Dr. Kincaid, I can prove to you that you have in fact heard my partner's name before. I'd even go so far as to say that you've treated him recently, probably for the gunshot I mentioned earlier."

Dr. Kincaid's face paled even further and he once again attacked one of his fingernails. Peter pulled his chair in even closer to the table and leaned as far forward as he could.

"Dr. Kincaid, when I became a FBI agent, I took an Agent Oath of Office, swearing that I would well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office I was appointed to. It seems that as a doctor, you have also sworn an oath, right? Non-maleficence? First do no harm? The Hippocratic Oath? Do these sound familiar?"

Peter waited for the man to answer, but after several long seconds, it was obvious that he wasn't going to.

"Dr. Kincaid, I believe that Neal is in a precarious position. I also believe that you know something about that. I can tell that you try to be a good man, so I'm asking you for your help. Please!"

The young doctor looked like he was about to say something, but he quickly shut his mouth, choosing instead to stare at his hands again. Peter could feel his patience growing thinner with each second that passed, knowing that his partner needed him. _His friend needed him_.

"Dr. Kincaid, we know about your sister. We know that she is in a special home for people with disabilities and we know that you've recently been looking into having her moved to a different facility. Is someone threatening her? Is that why you don't want to talk to us?"

Kincaid's shoulders slumped forward and he placed his head in his hands.

"I have to protect her, Agent Burke. She's the only family I have left and she can't protect herself. It's all up to me!"

"Dr. Kincaid….. Aiden….. I know how scared you must be, but we can help you. If you tell us what you know, we can get whoever is responsible for kidnapping my partner and threatening your sister. Let us help you, please!"

Peter put as much sincerity as he could into his voice, hoping that he could convince the terrified man. Kincaid looked like he was going to make a run for the door, but he didn't.

"You swear you'll help me protect her? I need to know that you won't let anything happen to my sister."

"We'll protect her," Peter answered. "We'll have guards standing outside of the building at all points of access and two guards directly outside of her room. We'll keep her safe."

Kincaid hesitated for a few seconds, but then looked up wearily at Peter. "Okay. I'll tell you everything I know."

* * *

Neal was sleeping so soundly that he didn't hear the door open. He slept through Victor calling out his name, as well. It wasn't until the man's boot landed a swift kick to Neal's thigh that he woke up. Before he could get his bearings, Victor grabbed him by the hair again and lifted him up. Neal scrambled to his feet and tried to stay even with the man as he dragged him out of the room.

Once they were through the kitchen, where Silas was silently sitting at the table, Victor led Neal into the bathroom. Neal wasn't prepared for the man to shove him into the shower and he certainly wasn't prepared for the stream of ice cold water that rained down on him. Victor threw a bar of soap at him and then stepped back to lean against the counter.

Neal tried his best to clean himself, struggling to get out of the wet clothes without falling down in the shower. Minutes later, he used the soap to wash his hair, being careful not to disrupt the laceration he felt on the side of his head. By the time he was done, his head was swimming, his shoulder was aching, and the welts on his backside were stinging.

Stepping out of the shower, Victor handed him a towel and then told him to get dressed. Neal looked around the bathroom, but all he found was the pile of wet clothing he had previously taken off. Having no other choice, he put the wet clothes on as fast as he could; a task that was made even more difficult by the now violent shivering of his body.

Once he was dressed, Victor led him back downstairs and shoved him down into a chair at the table, causing a small grunt of pain to escape him. Silas looked up at him with a derisive scowl on his face.

"Do you feel better, boy? I remember how important your grooming habits always were to you."

Neal didn't bother to answer the man, focusing instead on trying to get his shivering under control. He knew that any words that came out of his mouth at the moment would be weak and pathetic, so he held his mouth firmly shut.

"You always were an unappreciative little jerk, weren't you?!" Silas continued, "No matter what your mother and I gave you, it was never enough. Don't think I've forgotten that, Danny-boy."

Neal watched as Silas stood up and moved around to his side of the table. Not wanting the man to know just how afraid of the situation he was, Neal raised his head and looked him in the eye. "I appreciate the shower, but maybe next time I can get some dry clothes. And I could do without the goon ogling me, too."

Silas laughed at the look of fury that crossed Victor's face. "You can't blame the man for ogling you, Danny. After all, you are a beautiful man."

Neal felt like he might lose what little he had left in his stomach, but he didn't give either man the luxury of knowing how much those words sickened him. Instead, he decided it was time to find out what was going on.

"What are you doing, Dmitri? And why do you need me?"

Silas eyed the man before him, as he reclaimed his seat at the table. "Danny, I'm sure you can figure out what the plan is here, can't you? That rather significant intellect of yours always seemed to have a way of figuring things out."

"I'm not working for you, Dmitri, if that's what you're thinking. I don't do that kind of work anymore. I've left Danny far behind and I have a new life now."

"Do you, Danny? You've convinced yourself that that's true now? What about the recent debacle with the Mosconi Codex? It sure seemed to me like you were still in the business then."

"That was different," Neal argued. "There were things about that that you don't know. I'm out of the business now and I'm working for the FBI."

Silas laughed out loud at that. "I see that you're still conning everyone around you, Danny-boy. Even yourself, it seems."

"I'm telling the truth, Silas, so you might as well let me go. I can't help you with anything."

"That's where you got it all wrong, Danny. You're the only one that can help me with this and if you don't agree to it, someone dear to your heart is going to die."

Neal's face paled at that, wondering just who the man was talking about. He knew that Mozzie could take care of himself, as could Diana, Jones and Peter. He knew that Peter would take care of Elizabeth, too. The only one he was worried about was June, but he also knew that she was out of the country for at least another month, visiting her newest grandbaby. No one else in Neal's life really mattered that much to him, so he was at a total loss.

"Who are you talking about?" he demanded.

"Who do you think I'm talking about, Danny? I'm talking about your mother, of course."

Neal felt his stomach drop at these words. _His mother? How could that be? _The last time Neal had heard from his mother, she had been institutionalized for mental illness and drug dependency. Once a year he received a letter from the institution at a post office box Mozzie had set up for him, updating him on his mother's progress. Each letter informed him that there had been very little improvement in her condition.

Neal remembered that everything in his life had fallen apart the year he turned eighteen. After his mother and Silas were married, Tessa had been happy. At least for a little while. Eventually, Neal would come home to find his mother passed out on the couch with a bottle of whiskey in her hand and a bottle of pills on the table. When she was awake, she argued constantly with Silas, over anything and everything. Neal could remember several times that his mother had completely lost it, causing her to be admitted to the nearby hospital. Schizophrenia, they said. She'll be okay if she takes her medication, they said.

The only problem was that she sometimes decided she didn't want to take her medication. Those were definitely the worst times. Tessa Brooks-Dmitri without medication could be a violent person. Neal could remember at least two times that she had tried to harm herself and at least one time when she threw a lamp at Silas. Fortunately, for some unknown reason, she was never really violent with her son. She would yell at him, of course, and tell him to get out of her sight, but she rarely raised her hand to him.

Neal wasn't really sure how he felt about his mother, so Dmitri's statement left him feeling a little disconcerted. Deep down, he knew he loved his mother, but somewhere along the way he had figured out that his life was easier without her around. He had learned to rely more and more on his Aunt Ellen and his mother became a secondary figure in his life. Ellen wasn't too happy about the situation, but she knew that Tessa wasn't capable of taking care of her son.

Knowing now that his mother was in danger, Neal felt unbelievably sad. He knew that his mother's mental illness was something that she really didn't have any control over. Her drug and alcohol addiction stemmed from her mental illness, as well. She had never really developed any decent coping skills in her young life, so when she found herself to be a widowed mother of a little boy, she had no way of managing it. Neal knew that that was the reason for the line of men she had brought into their house and he knew that that was the reason she started drinking.

He often found himself unbelievably angry that she couldn't handle things better, but for the most part he just felt unbelievably sorry for her.

Turning his attention back to Silas, Neal stood his ground, staring the man straight in the eye.

"Where is she? What have you done with her?" he demanded.

"I haven't done anything to her…yet. And I _won't_ do anything to her if you cooperate with me," Silas answered. "For now, she's safe and sound."

Neal knew better than to trust the man, but he had no other choice at the moment. He figured that as long as he did whatever Silas wanted him to do, his mother would remain safe. With a sinking feeling, he realized that he really had no choice but to cooperate with the man. He only hoped that Peter would understand.

* * *

By the time Kincaid was done talking, they knew who had taken Neal, but that was about it. Unfortunately, the good doctor had been blindfolded for the trip and had absolutely no idea where he had been taken. Peter was relieved to hear that Neal's injuries were stable at the moment, but he was concerned with the doctor talked about the possibility of infection. _They needed to find Neal quick!_

Once Peter found out the name of the man who had taken his partner, he sent Diana and Jones to dig up anything they could find. Dr. Kincaid said that Dmitri had been a patient of his for several years and other than being a little intimidating, this was the first time that he had been pulled into any sort of trouble. He also admitted to being a little shaken up by the apparent animosity the man held toward Neal. He didn't really know where they were keeping Neal within the house, but he could tell that they really weren't doing a good job of meeting the man's needs.

By the time he was done telling all that he knew, Dr. Kincaid had apologized profusely for not being able to help more. Peter truly appreciated that and tried to make the man understand that he was thankful for the information they had. After making sure that he had Kincaid's contact information, he allowed the man to leave, promising that they had already dispatched several agents to watch over his sister.

Almost an hour later, Diana and Jones entered Peter's office. Neither of them were too eager to sharewhat little they had uncovered about Silas Dmitri, especially since what they discovered wasn't good.

Silas Dmitri was a shady character, to say the least. His employment history was full of temporary jobs and it seemed that the man had been fired from most of them. He had failed to pay taxes for several years and was on his way to jail when he suddenly paid all of his back taxes in one lump sum. There was no traceable evidence of where the money actually came from.

As for family, the man had been married and divorced three times in his lifetime. He had no biological children of his own and only one step-child of record. Peter, Diana, and Jones had been shocked to see that Dmitri's step-son was none other than Danny Brooks, aka one Neal Caffrey.

Peter wasn't surprised that Neal hadn't ever told him about his step-father. He knew that the kid was embarrassed by the facts of his childhood and he knew that Neal would never want anyone to feel sorry for him. Which, of course, was exactly what Peter was feeling at the moment.

If anyone deserved a loving, comfortable, _normal _childhood, it was Neal. Instead, his childhood was such that he felt the need to learn how to con people to survive. Not for the first time, Peter wondered what kind of man Neal would have become if his childhood had been different. He already had such a kind heart and he was selfless in a lot of ways. When he loved someone, he loved deeply and without reservation. He would do anything for those he cared about. Peter knew now that these qualities were, without a doubt, thanks to Ellen. She was the only constant, virtuous being in young Neal's world, and Peter wished that he had had the opportunity to thank her.

Bringing his thoughts back around to the situation at hand, Peter, Diana, and Jones continued to look into Silas Dmitri. They needed to know everything they could about the man if they were going to be of any help to Neal.

* * *

Author's note: I would love to hear your thoughts on the chapter/story. Questions? Concerns?

Anyway, thanks so much for reading. I hope you're enjoying reading as much as I'm enjoying writing.


	8. The Lost And The Lonely

What He Does Best

Chapter 8

* * *

Neal lay on the cold floor, his head spinning and his heart pounding. He couldn't stop the tremors that were shooting through his body and causing his teeth to chatter. Although he was freezing, his skin was hotter than he could ever remember it being and his eyes actually burned when he closed them. He knew he was running a fever, most likely from the gunshot wound to his shoulder. He also figured that he was dehydrated, since the man holding him captive didn't see fit to actually offer him enough food and water to do him any good.

He had no idea just how long he had been there, but figured it had to at least have been three days. In that time, he had been given a single bottle of water and two different trays of barely edible food. He could tell by how parched his mouth was and by the fact that he hadn't felt the need to urinate for a while as proof that the dehydration was worsening.

_What was Dmitri playing at? How could he be expected to help with anything if he was so severely dehydrated that he couldn't function?_

As he lay there, his mind drifted through different memories, flitting around like a butterfly in a field of flowers. He tried to keep his focus on what was happening around him, but more often than not, his clouded mind took him back to the days he had spent with Dmitri and his mother. So many memories that he wished he could forget.

Dmitri was a nasty man from the very first day that Danny had met him. Neal remembered clearly how the man had acted like he was in charge from the very first moment he stepped foot in the house. He also remembered how his mother had submitted so easily to the man, always choosing him over her own son. This hadn't bothered Danny all that much, in the beginning, since his mother hadn't been that great at taking care of him, anyway. What did bother him, though, was when Dmitri became physically aggressive towards him and his mother did nothing about it.

Danny's fear of the man increased on a daily basis in those days. He never knew when something he did or didn't do would set the man off on a rampage. Of course, he spent as much time as he could away from home or up in his room, but the time would inevitably come when he had to face the man. It seemed that those times never ended well for the poor boy.

Silas Dmitri acted as if Danny was the biggest nuisance he had ever encountered. Anytime Danny needed anything at all was met with derision and scorn, until the boy had learned not to ask for anything. Luckily, his Aunt Ellen was always there for him. He had done his best to hide the fact from her that things were so bad at home, because he knew that if she found out it would only cause an even greater rift between her and his mom and that was the last thing he wanted.

Neal remembered how things had come to a head one afternoon when he had been arrested for shoplifting. He had recently gone through a growth spurt and was tired of being teased at school about his pants being too short for him. He had already successfully lifted several pairs of pants at one department store, but was caught in the act of stealing a pair of sweatpants at another store.

When the security guard asked for his parent's phone number, he didn't hesitate to give the man his Aunt Ellen's number instead. He knew she would be furious with him, but it was better than the alternative of having Dmitri find out.

When Ellen arrived, she was indeed completely furious with the boy.

"Danny? Are you okay?" she asked, looking the boy over from head to toe.

"Yes, ma'am," Danny replied.

"What were you thinking, young man?! Never mind…..it's obvious you weren't thinking at all! So, explain to me why you thought it was necessary to steal a pair of ten dollar sweatpants."

Danny knew that he couldn't tell her the truth that he needed the sweatpants for gym class and he was too afraid to ask his mother or Silas for them. Instead, he just stared at the floor, wishing that he could disappear.

"I expect an answer, Danny!" Ellen exclaimed.

Neal's eyes shot up to her face, surprised at the anger he heard in her voice, but still too afraid to tell her the truth.

"I-I don't know," he stammered. "I guess I just wanted them."

Ellen's anger intensified at his answer, but before she could say anything the security guard interrupted.

"Ma'am, it looks like this is the young man's first offense, so the store is prepared to let him off with a stern warning. I'm sure that you will handle things on your end, right?"

"Yes, I will definitely handle things on my end. Danny? Apologize, please."

Danny spent the next minute apologizing to the man and thanking him for not pressing charges against him. Eventually, it was time to leave and face the obviously angry woman beside him. Once they were outside the building, Ellen led him straight to her car, without saying a word. Once they were inside, she waited for Danny to buckle his seatbelt before turning to him.

"What's going on, Danny? I'm not buying the excuse that you took the sweatpants just because you wanted them. Something else is going on."

When Danny didn't answer her, she started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

"Where are we going?" Danny asked her quietly.

"I'm taking you home and you're going to explain what happened to your mother," Ellen answered.

"NO!" Danny cried. "Please, Aunt Ellen…..we can't tell mom."

Ellen pulled the car over and turned to look at him. "What do you mean, Danny? You were caught shoplifting. We can't keep that from your mother."

"Please!" Danny pleaded. Please, I'll never steal again, I promise. You can't tell her."

"Danny Brooks, what has gotten into you?! Why are you so afraid to tell your mother? Yes, she's going to be upset with you. Yes, you'll probably be grounded for a few weeks, but it won't be the end of the world."

Danny pleaded with her again, but Ellen's mind was made up. Minutes later, they pulled up to his house and Danny's heart sank at the sight of his step-father's truck in the driveway. He had held out the slightest bit of hope that the man wouldn't be home, but that hope quickly vanished.

Neal could remember what happened next like it was just a few days ago. He had followed Ellen into the kitchen, lingering just inside the doorway as she explained what had happened to Tessa and Silas. He silently watched as his step-father's face turned more and more red, his own face paling by comparison.

He listened as Ellen tried to explain what had happened, expressing her belief that something more was going on than just a young man taking something just because he wanted it. He knew she was wasting her breath and, in fact, seemed to be making Silas even angrier. Tessa looked at her son with obvious disappointment and her husband with obvious fear. Eventually, Silas interrupted Ellen and told Danny to go to his room.

Once he was in his room, Danny listened carefully to what was going on downstairs. He could hear the muffled sounds of voices, but couldn't make out anything that was being said. Eventually, he heard the front door open and close and knew that Ellen had left. With nothing left to do, he sat nervously on the edge of the bed, listening for the dreaded sound of his step-father's footsteps on the stairs.

His stomach flipped anxiously when he heard Silas climbing the stairs. Seconds later, the door opened to reveal the angry man. Danny's stomach flipped again when he saw the belt coiled tightly in the man's hand.

"I-I'm sorry," he blurted out before the man was even completely in the room.

"You're sorry? Really? How stupid are you, boy? You're pathetic!"

"I'm not stupid," Danny said boldly. "And I'm not pathetic!"

"Yes, you are. You can't even steal a pair of sweats without getting caught. That's pretty pathetic."

Danny didn't answer, choosing instead to stare at his hands.

"Listen to me, kid. Tomorrow you're going back to the store and you're going to try again."

Danny looked up at his step-father, stark confusion covering his face. "What?!"

"You heard me…tomorrow you're going back to the store and you're going to steal those sweats. This time without getting caught."

"I can't do that," Danny cried. "If I get caught, they'll arrest me!"

"Then don't get caught," Silas said. "Think of this as a bit of a test, Danny-boy. A test you'd better not fail if you know what's good for you."

"Silas, I can't do that," Danny pleaded.

"You can and you will," Silas demanded before grabbing Danny's arm and pulling him to his feet.

Neal remembered that thrashing as being one of the worst he had ever experienced.

* * *

Neal didn't know how long he had been asleep, but when Victor came in to get him, using his usual ploy of kicking him in the thigh to wake him, he found it nearly impossible to wake up. He struggled to open his eyes and keep them open, but he couldn't. He also found it impossible to move out of the way of Victor's repeated kicks.

Eventually, Victor left the room, but minutes later the door opened again. Silas strode into the room, surprised to see that the young man wasn't bluffing. Taking in the sight of the bruised and battered body, he realized that he needed to do something if he wanted his plan to work. Turning to Victor who was standing in the doorway, he did the only thing he could possibly do.

"Get Kincaid. Now!"

* * *

Peter sat at his dining room table with a stack of papers in front of him. He had spent the last several hours looking through everything they had on Silas Dmitri. The more he read about the man, the more he realized what a nasty piece of work he was. Knowing that this man had been a part of Neal's childhood was terrifying, but it also explained a little about how Neal had ended up on the path he had. Another part of him wondered at the fact that Neal was the man he was. His childhood had obviously been chaotic and confusing, but Neal had grown into an intelligent, caring man who loved easily and whole-heartedly. He was definitely a walking, talking paradox of human virtue.

Just as he was shuffling through the papers again, he heard the unmistakable sound of his wife's heels clicking down the stairs.

"Hey, hon," she said as she placed a kiss on the top of his head. "Anything new?"

"No…..nothing," Peter answered.

"I'm sorry, hon," Elizabeth said gently. "You'll find him, Peter. You always do."

"I _will _find him, El, but what shape will he be in when I do? It's already been over ninety-six hours and we know that Neal's been shot. What if I'm too late? Dmitri is a dangerous man."

"Peter, Neal will be okay. He's a fighter, remember?"

Peter nearly laughed at that. Neal was definitely a fighter. He was also the most intelligent man he had ever known. He just hoped that Neal's sense of self-preservation was intact enough to ensure that the kid kept his silver tongue and cocky attitude in check.

Just as Peter stood up from the table his phone rang. "This is Burke."

"Boss, I just got a call that our Dr. Kincaid is on the move. The two agents watching him said that Kincaid had a visitor about twenty minutes ago and then grabbed his medical bag and left with the man. They're currently tailing him."

"Diana, I want you in continuous contact with our guys. And tell them they better not lose Kincaid."

"You got it, boss," Diana answered. After a moment's hesitation, she continued. "We're going to find him, Peter. This is it."

"I hope so, Diana," Peter said quietly. "I hope so."

* * *

Neal felt someone manhandling him, but didn't have the strength to fight it. His body was on fire, yet he felt like he was chilled to the bone. His mouth was so dry that his tongue stuck to his teeth and his lips were cracked. Every joint in his body ached fiercely and his chest burned with every breath he took. He was in dire shape, his mind unable to focus on what was happening, but somehow he knew that he was at the mercy of a madman.

After what seemed an eternity of jostling, Neal felt himself sinking into a soft surface. A bright light shone down on him, but his eyes were still refusing to open. He could hear voices, but they sounded so distant that he couldn't understand anything they were saying.

He felt someone taking his shirt off and he tried unsuccessfully to stop him. _Why were they taking his clothes? Didn't they know how cold he was?_ _Didn't they see him shivering_?

Neal felt someone straightening his arm out and then felt a sharp prick of pain. Minutes later, he felt his grasp of consciousness slowly and blissfully slipping away.

* * *

Author's note: Okay, okay…..I give you all permission to be totally annoyed with me, but I ask your forgiveness. Twice now, I've had this chapter almost completed when my lovely computer decided to crash. Grrrr…technology can be so frustrating. Anyway, it's a little shorter than normal, but I hope to have another chapter up in the next few days.

Thanks for reading and for being patient. I would love to hear your thoughts on the chapter and on the story in general.


	9. Fear Rolls Like Thunder In Your Soul

What He Does Best

Chapter 9

* * *

Peter couldn't believe the way everything had played out. If it wasn't for the fact that he was currently worried out of his mind, he would be giving Hughes a piece of his over-worked, over-stressed, overly anxious mind. The ineptitude of his junior agents had been nearly catastrophic and Peter needed someone to pay. Preferably someone other than himself, of course. These particular junior agents had just recently been assigned to Peter's crew, with Hughes assuring him that they were above average agents.

Peter disagreed.

They had efficiently followed Kincaid and the other man, ending up at an old farmhouse on the outskirts of town. They had followed procedure perfectly up to that point, but then everything had fallen apart. Peter learned later on that communication had been severed between the two agents and the rest of his team, presumably from some sort of signal jamming device. Diana, Jones, and the rest of the team were still miles away when communication was lost.

Upon realizing that they were on their own, the two agents had set up as much of a perimeter watch as they could, keeping the old farmhouse well within their sight. What they didn't take into consideration was that whoever was inside the farmhouse more than likely had their own perimeter watch, as well.

Once they were found out by one of Silas Dmitri's men, everything happened quickly and disastrously. Gunfire broke out between the two different parties, but the two agents were vastly outnumbered. They didn't stand a chance against Dmitri's men and within the first few minutes both men suffered severe injuries.

Peter had no idea what had happened after that. The only thing he knew was that somehow Neal had been injured again in the crossfire and Dmitri had managed to get away. Dr. Kincaid was uninjured during the melee, but had apparently fallen into a state of shock. By the time the rest of his team had arrived on the scene, Dmitri's men had fled as well, leaving behind two of their own injured and one dead.

The two agents were in critical condition, but Diana assured him that they were conscious, at least. Neal, on the other hand, was in dire straits. From what Peter could glean from the broken communication with Diana, Neal had been shot in the stomach and had lost a lot of blood. The paramedics had whisked him away as quickly as they could, lights flashing, sirens blasting.

Peter was now pacing the floor of the emergency room waiting area, his eyes fixed on the ambulance bay doors. _What was taking them so long? Did something happen on the way to the hospital? _As he anxiously paced, he suddenly found himself praying for his partner…his friend.

* * *

Elizabeth sat on the couch, nursing a rather cold cup of coffee as she waited to hear something from Peter. When he had left earlier, after Diana's call, he had promised to call her as soon as he knew anything. She felt like she was about to go crazy with worry, and prayed that her phone would ring soon.

It was almost two hours later when her phone finally rang, but she was disappointed to see that it wasn't Peter.

"Hi, June," she answered as brightly as she could. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Elizabeth, but I just returned home from a trip upstate to find things here at home a little messy. Neal said that he would watch over Bugsy for me while I was gone, so I gave my staff a few days off, too. It seems, though, that poor Bugsy has been left to fend for himself for quite some time. I called Neal, but he's not answering his phone. Do you know where he is?"

Elizabeth had no idea what to tell her. She knew that June cared for Neal as if he were her own son, so she didn't want to terrify the poor lady. Another part of her, though, knew that June deserved the truth. Before she could answer, June continued.

"It's just not like Neal to act so irresponsibly, Elizabeth. He's a man of his word, you see, and I'm rather worried about him."

"June, would you mind if I came over to talk to you? There are some things you need to know, but I'd rather not talk about it over the phone."

"Why don't I come to you instead? My driver is still out front and I'm ready to go."

"Okay, I'll make some fresh coffee for us."

* * *

Diana couldn't believe the scene she had walked into. They had lost communication with the two junior agents nearly twenty minutes before, but luckily they were able to get sporadic pings off of their car's GPS system. Once they arrived on the farm, they immediately saw the two agents, plus two other casualties spread out on the ground. It was obvious that a firefight had ensued, so Diana and the rest of the team proceeded cautiously.

Diana had been so relieved to find that the two young agents were still alive. One of the other two men hadn't been so lucky. Once she had assigned a few agents to administer first aid to the injured, she followed Jones toward the house. Diana was surprised to find herself overcome with fear at the thought of finding Neal severely injured, or worse, inside the house.

She and Neal had a definite love/hate relationship, but Diana was willing to admit that the hate part was more frustration than anything else. Neal could drive her crazy faster than anyone or anything else, but for the most part she liked and respected the man. She could even admit….. to herself, but not to anyone else… that she cared for him quite a bit. To think that someone could hurt him was almost too much. Despite everything that he had done in his life, he didn't deserve to be mistreated or abused. In her eyes, Neal had more than paid his debt to society and she knew that most of the people they worked with now thought of him as a valuable member of the team. _That was what he deserved_.

After clearing the perimeter of the house, as well as the wrap-around porch, Diana and Jones entered the farmhouse. The first room they entered was the kitchen and after quickly clearing that room, they entered into the dining room and living room. Once they entered the living room, Diana quickly noticed the obvious pock marks on the walls from where bullets had slammed into them. Looking down on the floor, she noticed a small trail of blood leading out of the room and down a short hallway. To her dismay, the blood seemed to be increasing with each step she took. Motioning to Jones to follow her, she eventually ended up in front of a closed door just off the hallway, the trail of blood disappearing under the door.

"FBI! Come out with your hands where we can see them!" Jones bellowed.

When there was no response, Diana tentatively reached out and tried the door handle, noting that it didn't seem to be locked. When she turned the handle and slowly pushed against the door, it didn't open, though. She could immediately tell that someone was leaning up against the door, his or her body weight effectively keeping them from entering.

"FBI! We need you to step away from the door." Jones yelled.

With still no response, Diana motioned for Jones to go ahead and push against the door. It took him several long seconds to push whoever it was further into the bathroom, allowing Diana to safely enter the room, gun drawn and ready to be used.

Upon entering the room, Diana was shocked to see an extremely battered, bruised, and bleeding Neal Caffrey. "Neal!" she yelled desperately, as she felt for a pulse. For several excruciating seconds, she couldn't feel a pulse and she thought that Neal was dead. A small gasp from the man proved her wrong, though.

"Neal," she yelled again. "It's okay, Caffrey. We're going to get you some help, okay? Just hang in there."

Other than the small gasp that had escaped him, Neal sat motionless and completely silent against the partially opened bathroom door. He hadn't reacted to a thing Diana had said and she wasn't even sure that he was actually conscious. At that point, though, she was just happy that he was breathing and had a pulse.

Yelling at Jones, who by this time was standing directly behind her, she made sure that an ambulance was enroute, before turning back to Neal. She couldn't believe how awful the young man looked. His normally stylish hair was greasy and plastered against his head. His face was pale, his skin cool and clammy. She immediately noticed several bruises along his jawline and temple, not to mention the bulky dressing wrapped around his shoulder. One eye was swollen almost completely shut and there was blood caked around his nose. The worst part, though, was the gaping wound in his abdomen.

Diana couldn't believe the amount of blood saturating Neal's clothes and spilling onto the floor. Looking around, she noticed a towel rack above Neal's head. She also noticed the bloody handprint on the wall next to it, figuring that Neal must have been trying to grab the towel to stop the blood flow. Grabbing the towel, she quickly balled it up and pressed it against Neal's wound. At the sound of Neal's cry of pain, she instinctively let up on the pressure, but then quickly pushed down again, knowing that it had to be done.

Jones stood guard over his two partners, not knowing if this was the last time he would ever see Neal Caffrey alive.

* * *

When June finally arrived, Elizabeth was waiting for her with a fresh cup of tea and a plate of warm cookies. June gave her a soft kiss on the cheek before sitting down on the sofa.

"Thank you, Elizabeth," she said as she took the offered tea and cookies. "Now, tell me what's going on with Neal."

Elizabeth explained everything she knew to the older woman, watching her carefully to see how she was taking the news. She could see the tremble in June's lovely hands, could hear the teacup knock against the saucer. Elizabeth wished that she didn't have to be the bearer of bad news, but June deserved to know.

"June, Peter's doing everything he can to find Neal, and you know how good he is at that. It's what he does best, right? He'll find him and when he does he'll call me right away. All we have to do is sit here and wait for the call. Will you wait with me?"

"Of course, Elizabeth. And you're right…Peter _will _find Neal."

* * *

Eventually, Peter heard the sound of an incoming ambulance and prayed that it was Neal. Stepping out of the emergency room, he ran over to the ambulance bay. He knew he wasn't supposed to be there, but he didn't care. Just as he rounded the corner, he heard the paramedics reporting off to the doctor receiving the patient and knew by what he was saying that it was Neal.

"Male patient, early to mid-thirties, with a GSW to the abdomen. Severe blood loss in the field. BP 70/30, EKG shows Sinus Tach, rate 140, respiratory rate is 30 and shallow. GCS score 8. He has two large bore IVs and he's received three liters Normal Saline wide open. The wound is packed and the bleeding has slowed down."

Peter listened intently, trying to understand what the paramedic was saying. From what he could tell, Neal had lost a lot of blood. Trying to follow the gurney into the trauma room, Peter was stopped by a burly looking security guard.

"You can't come in here," the man said as he held up his arm to stop him.

"That's my partner," Peter yelled. "I need to see him."

"Sir, you need to let the doctors do their thing. Your partner is in good hands."

Peter looked desperately at the gurney as it disappeared behind a curtain.

"Sir, have a seat in the waiting room, okay? I'll make sure someone keeps you informed."

Peter had no choice but to do as he was told.

* * *

By the time Diana and Jones arrived at the hospital, almost an hour had passed since Neal had been shot. They entered the ER waiting room to find Peter pacing frantically near the trauma bay doors.

"Hey, Boss… Any word on Caffrey yet?" Diana asked.

Peter stopped pacing and turned to face his agents. Diana didn't think she had ever seen him looking so…_tired? Lost?_

"Peter, maybe you should sit down for a while," Jones said when he got a good look at his boss.

"No, I'm fine," Peter answered tersely. "They've been working on him for a long time. The last I heard they were prepping him for surgery."

That's good, right?" Diana asked. "They're going to take him in there and fix him."

"He lost a lot of blood, Diana. The doctor said that his body went into shock from the blood loss and some of his organs are starting to fail. He said they can take him to surgery and fix his wound, but he's still in critical condition. He said they were doing everything that they could, but that Neal…..that he might not make it."

"He'll make it, Boss. Neal's strong and he's a fighter. He'll make it."

Peter knew that Diana was trying to convince herself of that, too.

* * *

June and Elizabeth had demolished the pot of tea and platter of cookies and at the moment were talking about the early days with Neal. June was explaining to Elizabeth how Neal had come to live in her upstairs apartment. Elizabeth had, of course, already heard the story from Peter, but hearing it from June was different.

"And there he was, looking at me with those dazzling blue eyes and that charming, mischievous grin of his. He reminded me so much of Byron in that moment and I immediately knew that I couldn't just let him walk out of my life. There was just something about him that cried out to me, if you can imagine."

"Oh, I can imagine," El laughed. "The first time I ever laid eyes on him, I wanted to hug him and cook him a nice meal. I thought Peter was going to explode when he came down the stairs and found Neal sitting on the sofa with me."

June laughed at that. "That boy does know how to push Peter's buttons, doesn't he?"

Elizabeth joined her in laughing before turning serious again. "Weren't you worried about inviting him into your home, June?"

"Not a bit, dear. Looking into his baby blues, I knew I could trust him. Neal's been a lot of things in his life, but he's never been dangerous. The only thing he could have taken from me was my material wealth and that's not important to me. When I saw him, I saw a man that was down on his luck and desperate for someone to care about him. That's all."

Just as Elizabeth was about to answer, her phone rang. Jumping up to grab it, her heart pounded when she saw that it was Peter calling.

"Peter? What's going on?"

June watched as Elizabeth listened to whatever Peter was saying, her face growing paler by the second. Eventually, Elizabeth had to sit down, her trembling legs obviously not strong enough to support her. After several minutes, she finally hung up the phone and turned to June.

"They found Neal, but he's been shot. We have to go. Now!"

June stood up on shaky legs and grabbed her coat and purse. "My car is still outside. Let's go!"

* * *

By the time Elizabeth and June arrived, the waiting room was full of Peter's fellow agents. Elizabeth was surprised to see that even Hughes was there. It seemed that Neal had finally earned the support of everyone in the White Collar division.

Spying Peter off in the corner of the room, the two of them made their way over to him.

"Hon? Any news?"

Peter turned to his wife and immediately drew her into his arms. She was surprised to feel his body trembling against her, and she realized that he was barely holding it together.

"Peter, I need to sit down, okay?" she said, knowing that he would never sit himself down. "Will you sit with me?"

Seconds later they were both sitting on the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room.

"He's still in surgery, El," Peter said. "It's been over an hour and no one's come to tell us how he's doing."

"I'm sure they'll update us as soon as they can, hon," Elizabeth answered weakly.

"He can't die, El. He has to pull through this."

"Peter, he's going to be fine, okay? The doctors here are some of the best in the world. He's in good hands."

Peter nodded absent-mindedly. "He can't die. He needs to know that I…. He can't die."

Elizabeth pulled her husband closer to her, clutching onto him tightly. She didn't know what to say to make him feel better, so she just held onto him.

* * *

It had been almost five hours since Neal had been shot. The waiting room had thinned out quite a bit, leaving only Peter, Elizabeth, June, Diana, Jones, Hughes, and a very paranoid looking Mozzie. June had suggested a few hours before that someone notify the little guy as to what had happened. Luckily, Elizabeth had one of his many phone numbers saved in her phone.

A nurse had come through a few times to give the group a brief update. She really didn't have much information, just that the surgery was still in progress and Neal was still in critical condition. Peter wanted to grabbed her and shake her until she told him more than that, but Elizabeth wouldn't let go of his hand.

By the time the surgeon walked through the OR doors, everyone but Peter and Mozzie was asleep. Peter jumped up from the chair, waking his wife up in the process. He hurriedly walked over to meet the surgeon, trying desperately to read the man's face, but failing.

"How is he?" he demanded. "Is he okay?"

"Agent Burke, right?" the doctor asked. "I'm Dr. Jackson. I know you spoke with Dr. Kent earlier, but I'm the primary surgeon on Mr. Caffrey's case. The surgery is over and Mr. Caffrey will be moving to a room in the ICU after recovery. We were able to stop the bleeding and fix the damage from the bullet's trajectory, but your partner has suffered quite a shock from the blood loss. His kidneys and liver are failing right now and his heart is under a lot of stress. Because of this, we are going to keep him intubated and in a medically induced coma for now."

"What does that mean?" Peter asked frantically.

"It means that Mr. Caffrey will have a tube going down his throat and into his lungs to help him breathe. We will be giving him medication to sedate him. The less stress his body is under, the better for his recovery."

"_Will _he recover?"

"The next few days will be critical for him, Agent Burke. He has a lot to overcome, but it helps that he is young and healthy. We have been and will continue replenishing the blood that he's lost. I've ordered some heavy-duty antibiotics to be given to him, hopefully to prevent sepsis. We are monitoring his kidney function closely, but if it doesn't start to improve we may have to start dialysis."

Peter's head was spinning from everything the doctor was saying. He was trying to process everything, but it was too overwhelming.

"When can I see him?" he asked finally.

"He'll be in Recovery for about an hour and then they'll move him to the ICU. They'll need some time to get him settled there, so it will probably be at least two hours, Agent Burke. Why don't you get something to eat or take a nap? Someone will get you as soon as possible."

With that, Dr. Jackson turned and went back through the OR doors, leaving Peter to wait impatiently to be called. Elizabeth tried to get him to walk down to the cafeteria with her, but he adamantly refused. Instead, he sank back into the uncomfortable chair, thinking about all the things he wished he had said to Neal. _Did the kid know how much he cared for him? Did he know how much their partnership….. _their_ friendship meant to him? Did he know that Peter would never forgive himself if he died?_

Peter could feel tears burning his eyes and he tried to wipe them away before anyone noticed. Just as he was thinking that he should visit the men's room, the intercom flared to life, the words flowing over him like ice.

"_Code Blue Recovery room 3. Code Blue Recovery room 3. Code Blue Recovery room 3."_

* * *

Author's note: Sorry for the late update. I love writing for you all, and if I had my way I would do it every day, but life just keeps getting in the way. One of these days, maybe I'll find a way to be independently wealthy. Then I can write all I want.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Yes, they found Neal. Yes, Neal is still in trouble. Yes, Dmitri is still out there somewhere. This story is far from over, methinks. Anyway, thanks for reading. I would love to hear your thoughts.


	10. What It All Comes Down To

What He Does Best

Chapter 10

* * *

The waiting room erupted into total pandemonium after the Code Blue was called. Everyone looked frantically towards the OR doors, hoping that someone would tell them what was going on.

"Maybe it isn't Neal," Diana said. "Maybe it's some other poor soul."

No one answered her. They all knew that at that late hour there probably weren't any other surgeries going on. It had to be Neal, but what had happened?

They all watched as several people ran through the doors, looks of determination planted on their faces. Not knowing what else to do, they all stood together in a small group, each of them praying in their own way.

After what seemed like hours, but was really only about fifteen minutes, Dr. Jackson pushed his way through the OR doors. He had a grim look on his face and Peter immediately felt his legs start to buckle. Fortunately, Jones was standing next to him and he quickly grabbed Peter's arm, giving him something to hang on to.

"He's okay, but we had a bit of a close call," Dr. Jackson said.

"What does that mean?" Peter asked impatiently, not giving the poor man time to continue.

"Mr. Caffrey started to hemorrhage again and the stress on his body was too much. He went into cardiac arrest and we had to perform CPR for several minutes."

"But, he's okay, right?" Elizabeth cried.

Dr. Jackson turned to Elizabeth and gave her a small smile, hoping to reassure her. "For the moment, Mr. Caffrey is stable. I had to open him back up to locate the hemorrhage, but once we found it, we were able to stop the bleeding and repair the laceration." Turning to look at the rest of the group, he took a deep breath before continuing. "I won't lie to you all," he said. "The next few days will be very tenuous, but I promise that we will do everything we can."

Turning away from the group, Dr. Jackson turned to Peter. "Agent Burke, can I talk to you for a few minutes?"

Dr. Jackson stepped away from the group and waited for Peter to join him. "Agent Burke, there are a few other things I'd like to discuss with you privately. As I'm sure you know, the gunshot wound wasn't the only injury that Mr. Caffrey presented with. In fact, the young man looks like he took a hell of a beating from someone. His jaw was dislocated, his nose broken, and his right eye completely swollen shut. He has what appears to be several broken ribs and possibly a bruised kidney. He also has bruises covering the majority of his body, all in various stages of healing. There is what looks like a gunshot wound to his shoulder, but it appears to have been treated by someone within the last few days. He also has what looks like belt marks covering his back."

Peter couldn't believe the long list of injuries and he had a sudden desire to kill Dmitri with his bare hands. He also felt overwhelming guilt for not being able to find his friend sooner.

"Agent Burke, I need to know how these injuries occurred."

Peter spent the next few minutes explaining most of what had happened. He wasn't surprised when Dr. Jackson looked shocked to hear it all.

"Is there a possibility that this man might try to get to Mr. Caffrey while he's here? Do I need to alert hospital security?"

"I think that's a good idea, Dr. Jackson, although I'll have two of my own men standing guard at all times. Silas Dmitri is a dangerous man and I wouldn't be surprised if he did try to get to Neal. I'm not going to let that happen."

After a few more words, Dr. Jackson went to check on Neal and to alert the security team, leaving an exhausted Peter to re-join everyone in the waiting room. Taking a seat in between June and Elizabeth, he grabbed both of their hands and held on tightly.

* * *

It was almost three hours later before the nurses were ready to allow visitors. By this time, Hughes, Jones, and Diana had gone home, hoping to get some rest before continuing their search for Dmitri. Mozzie had waited as long as he could, too, but he eventually couldn't take being in the hospital any longer. He made Elizabeth promise that she would call him as soon as she saw Neal and then he sped out of the hospital, mumbling something about anal probes and super bugs.

Peter, Elizabeth, and June were the only ones left, so when a nurse finally came out for them, they quickly decided that Peter should be the first one to see him. Standing up on shaky legs, Peter followed the nurse through the ICU doors, immediately intimidated by the seemingly controlled chaos of the place.

"Agent Burke, right?" the young nurse asked him. "My name is Kelly and I am Mr. Caffrey's nurse for the night."

"Please, call me Peter," he said quietly. "And _Mr. Caffrey _would laugh if he heard you call him that. He prefers Neal."

"Okay…Peter and Neal it is, then. Now, I'd like to prepare you a little for what you are about to see. It can be a little overwhelming, at first."

Peter was grateful for the fact that Kelly had stopped walking and turned to him. He wasn't sure if he was really ready to see his partner…..his friend… in the condition he was in.

"Neal has been through a terrible trauma and he's looking a little worse for wear," Kelly said. "He might not look much like himself, at first. With all of the fluids and blood products that he's received, he's looking a little swollen. He has two tubes in his throat…..one to breathe for him and one that's going into his stomach to decompress it. You'll also notice an IV going into his neck with lots of IV lines running into it. He has multiple IV pumps next to his bedside, so it may be a little hard to get close to him. I'll pull a chair up next to the bed for you, okay?"

Kelly turned to walk into the room, but Peter stopped her.

"Wait!" he cried. "Wait. I don't know if I'm ready for this."

"Agent Burke…Peter, it's okay. I'll be right here with you and I'll answer any questions you have, okay?"

Kelly's encouraging smile bolstered Peter's courage and he gave her a sheepish grin.

"Okay," he said. A second later, he found himself following the nurse into Neal's room, all the time trying to remind himself to breathe. _Just breathe, Peter. Breathe_.

As he walked through the door, his knees weakened and his heart felt like it had stopped. No amount of explanation from Kelly could have prepared him for what he was seeing. The man lying in the hospital bed didn't hold any resemblance at all to the man that had become such an important part of his life. The pale, bloated figure lying there with his greasy hair plastered to his clammy forehead held none of the true essence of Neal Caffrey.

Peter barely noticed the tears that were streaming down his face as he stood there staring at the ghost-like figure in the bed_. How could he have let this happen? Why didn't he protect Neal better? Why didn't he find him sooner?_

Kelly quickly grabbed onto Peter's arm, holding him steady as he stared at Neal. It wasn't the first time she had had to help someone deal with what they were witnessing, but for some reason seeing Peter's reaction was almost too much for her.

"Peter? Why don't you have a seat in that chair right there, okay?"

Once Peter sat down in the chair, Kelly went over to a cupboard and pulled out a styrofoam cup. Filling it up with cold water, she handed it to Peter, instructing him to take small sips. After a few sips, Peter handed the cup back to her and bent over, leaning his head into his hands_. Breathe, Peter. Just breathe._

After a few deep breaths, Peter looked once again at his partner. This time, he was able to see a little bit of the old Neal. He focused on the lean hands that were laying at Neal's sides, recognizing them for the hands of the artist that they were. _How many times had he watched in fascination as Neal used those hands to work his magic? _Whether they were painting something, unlocking something, or stealing something, Peter had witnessed them doing amazing, almost super-human things. He had also witnessed them doing annoying things like changing the car radio station just as Peter's favorite player came up to bat. Or, flipping those stupid hats around time and time again. Peter would give anything to see Neal do one of his hat tricks again.

Pulling his chair a little closer to the bed, making sure not to disturb any of the IV lines in the process, Peter gently picked up one of Neal's hand. It felt surprisingly thin and fragile in his big hand, and Peter felt a surge of protectiveness run through him. Clearing his throat, he finally spoke to his partner, who was desperately fighting for his life.

"I'm here, Neal," he said strongly. "Right here, buddy, and I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Elizabeth and June both sat in the waiting room, wondering how things were going for Peter. Neither one of them had said anything for the last twenty minutes, both just lost in their own thoughts and prayers. Eventually, though, Elizabeth turned to look at June.

"What are we going to do, June, if he doesn't pull through this? How will we survive that? How will Peter survive that?"

June scooted over closer to Elizabeth, pulling her into her arms. "Don't you worry for one minute, Elizabeth," she said firmly. "Neal _will _make it through this. He knows how much we love him and he will fight as hard as he can to come back to us."

Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears. "But, what if he doesn't know how much we love him, June? What if he has no idea that he means so much to us? I don't think I've ever told him out loud," she said miserably.

"Darling, Neal Caffrey is one of the smartest men I've ever known. He identifies love through actions, not words. And you and Peter have shown him time and time again that you love him. He knows that when Peter yells at him for doing something impulsive, it's because Peter is worried for his safety. He knows that when you invite him to dinner, it's because you want to take care of him. He knows, Elizabeth."

"Do you really think so, June? Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, darling. Neal and I enjoy breakfast together quite often and we have some wonderful conversations. He knows…"

"Thank you," Elizabeth said with a small smile. "I think I'll still tell him, though, as soon as I get the chance."

June smiled, too, as she pulled Elizabeth closer to her side. "And you'll get that chance, Elizabeth. I'm sure of it."

* * *

A few minutes later, Elizabeth had fallen asleep against her shoulder, allowing June time to think about everything they had talked about. She wasn't really lying to Elizabeth earlier, she just wasn't truly sure that Neal was going to make it. She knew that the young man was a fighter….. that he was strong, but she also knew that even a man like Neal Caffrey had limits. After hearing everything the doctor had to say, she knew that Neal was in for the fight of his life. She also knew that she was more scared than she had ever been in her life.

Life with Byron had always had it's moments of fear and anxiety, but until he became sick with cancer, she had never really feared for his life. She was, of course, worried for him when he had been sent to prison, but she knew that Byron could take care of himself. In fact, she wouldn't have been surprised to find out that he was everyone's favorite criminal, prisoners and officers alike.

As she sat in the waiting room, holding on tightly to Elizabeth, June thought back over the last few years. She knew that it was divine intervention that had brought Neal into her life. Byron had only been gone for a few years and she was lonelier than she could ever remember being. Her girls visited as often as they could, but they both had their own families to care for. June often found herself walking through the massive house Byron had built for her, looking in each room as if she was hoping to find him there somewhere. She would spend hours looking through her photo albums and several times a week she would take some of his clothing and sit down in his favorite chair, holding the garment to her face, hoping to detect the slightest trace of his scent.

Eventually, she realized that she had to move on and that precipitous realization led her to the second-hand store where she met the man who would make her smile again. Seeing the way he revered the suits she had placed on the counter, she was instantly drawn to him. Something about him reminded her of her Byron and she desperately needed to keep him from walking out.

It was serendipitous that the young man told her that he was looking for a new place to live. She remembered how Neal had been unable, or unwilling, to lie to her when she asked him where he had been living. She was surprised when the young man confessed to the fact that he had just been released from prison. He had to have known that most people would have immediately turned away from him, but for some reason he chose to be honest with her. From that moment on, she knew that there was no way she could turn her back on the young man. He needed someone in his corner and she wanted to be that someone.

Having Neal in the house was like a breath of fresh air. Just knowing that someone else was there was enough, but to have this vibrant young man was even better. She loved to listen to him singing in the shower, not knowing that his bathroom vent allowed sound to travel down to the sitting room. She loved to smell the wonderful things he cooked and then to sit back and wait for the inevitable dinner invitation to come. She loved the mornings that they were able to have breakfast together, too. Sometimes, they would just sit quietly in each other's presence, not feeling the need to talk. Other times, they would talk about anything and everything.

She was telling the truth when she told Elizabeth that Neal identified love through actions, but she also knew that the young man was capable of using words, as well. She didn't know much about Neal's childhood, but she knew that it was less than ideal. Neal rarely talked about his mother or his father and when he did, it was in the most generic way. He did, however, talk often of Ellen, Peter, Elizabeth, and Mozzie. She knew by the way he fretted whenever he had done something to make Peter mad, that he desperately wanted…no, needed…the man's approval. She knew how much it meant to him when Elizabeth indulged him, making him soup when he was sick, or cooking him his favorite meal over and over again.

Neal wore many faces, but he also wore his heart on his sleeve. His emotions were obvious, when someone took the time to look.

June suddenly wondered if Neal really did know how much he meant to them. _Had she ever told him that he was the son she had always wanted? Had she ever let him know that he was her knight in shining armor, her deliverer and savior from the deep wells of loneliness? Did he really know that she loved him?_

In that moment, she made up her mind that Neal would never go another day without hearing her say that she loved him. She only prayed that he had many more days to come.

* * *

Guilt suddenly shot through Peter when he realized that he had been sitting by Neal's bed for over an hour. He knew that both Elizabeth and June were anxious to see Neal, as well, but there was a part of him that didn't want to leave. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he was terrified that if he took his eyes off of his partner, the man would disappear.

Rationally, he knew he was being silly, but the thought of leaving the room and then something happening to Neal was too much to bear. So, he sat there in the chair, his eyes never leaving the face of his friend, his thoughts constantly jumping from one to another.

He couldn't keep from smiling when he remembered the days that he had first started chasing Neal. He had never felt so frustrated in his life, but he had to admit that it had all been tremendously exhilarating, too. Even at such a young age, Neal was the smartest man he had ever seen. The things the kid did without getting caught were unbelievable. The places he had chased him to. The messages he had received from him. The birthday cards…..anniversary cards…..the "wish you were here" cards. Hell, the kid even had the audacity to send a bottle of very expensive wine to their stakeout van.

As much as Peter wanted to catch him back then, there was a small part of him that wanted the chase to never end. It had consumed so much of his life for so long that when it was over he actually felt depressed. Of course, no one would ever understand how he could feel sadness at the fact that he had been part of the process that locked up such a brilliant, vibrant mind. He had done his job well, but it was done with regrets.

Then, of course, the cards had resumed, although this time they came not from far away, exotic places, but from a state penitentiary. Peter had been somewhat depressed about that, as well, but eventually he became involved in another case. One that was almost as frustrating and exhilarating as chasing James Bonds.

That case was the reason that he and Neal were now partners. When Neal had offered to help him catch the Dutchman in return for his unique release from prison as a criminal informant, Peter had wanted to accept immediately. Part of it was because he really wanted to catch the Dutchman, but most of it was because he missed Neal being a part of his life.

Whatever the reason, he made himself turn Neal's offer down at first. He remembered thinking that there was no way that particular partnership would work, especially not in his favor. Neal would surely run at the first chance that came along, leaving him to look like a fool.

Eventually, though, with a little encouragement from his wife who was tired of watching him mope around, he accepted Neal's offer. Of course, it took him several long weeks to convince the brass that it was a good idea, but eventually they gave in. Peter knew that he was putting his reputation and his job on the line for something that would most likely fail fantastically, but he went ahead with it.

The rest was history….

* * *

Author's note: Whew! This chapter was a little hard to write. All those emotions swirling around were making me crazy, lol. Anyway, I promise that I have more action planned for you all. It just needs to be balanced with a little angst and fluff to make everyone happy.

I would love, love, love to hear what you all thought about this chapter, as well as what you think about the story as a whole. I have to admit that this story has gone off in an entirely different direction than I first planned, but it seems to be demanding to be written in a certain way. I guess I'm just supposed to get out of the way, lol.

Thanks so, so much for reading and reviewing. Another chapter will be up in the not-so-distant future.


	11. Be Still And Know

What He Does Best

Chapter 11

* * *

Peter woke up abruptly to an alarm blaring next to his ear. After taking a few seconds to regain his bearings, he looked immediately to the still figure lying in the bed in front of him, and then around the room, trying to discover why the alarm was going off. He was surprised to see Kelly standing a few feet away, adjusting buttons on one of the IV pumps.

"Is everything okay?" Peter asked somewhat sluggishly.

"Everything's fine, Peter. I'm just giving Neal a little extra IV fluid," Kelly assured him.

"Why is that alarm going off like that?"

Kelly gave him a small smile. "His blood pressure is a little low, so the doctor ordered the extra fluid."

"You're sure he's okay?" Peter asked, looking like he didn't believe her.

"He's okay, Peter. If he weren't, this room would be full of people."

Peter watched her for a few more minutes, wondering how in the world they kept all the lines and numbers straight in their heads. Once Kelly left, he turned his attention back to Neal. He was hoping that things wouldn't look as dreadful now, but he could see that they still did. In fact, Neal looked even more shocking. His face was more swollen and pale, and there was a fine sheen of sweat covering his body. It also looked like a few more IVs had been added to his arms.

Taking his eyes off of his friend, Peter checked his watch and was surprised to see that he had been asleep for nearly an hour. He knew that Elizabeth and June were still waiting outside, so he reluctantly stood up and left the room. The act of walking away from Neal was almost more than Peter could take. Logically, he knew that his presence there wasn't really helping at this stage, and that the nurses were taking excellent care of Neal, but he still didn't want to leave.

Walking out of the ICU doors, he felt guilt wash over him at the sight of Elizabeth and June. They were both sound asleep, holding onto and leaning against each other. Both of their faces were creased with exhaustion and worry, causing Peter's guilt to spike even higher.

Stepping over to Elizabeth, he gently shook her shoulder until her eyes flew open. Once she moved her head to look at Peter, June woke up, too.

"Peter? How is he?" Elizabeth immediately asked.

"He's holding his own, hon. I'm sorry I stayed in there for so long. I couldn't seem to find the strength to leave him."

June reached up and grabbed Peter's hand, giving it a good squeeze. "We understand, Peter. You would have told us if anything was happening."

Peter squeezed June's hand in return. "June, why don't you go on in and see him. Then, maybe you can go home and get some rest."

June stood up, preparing to go into the ICU, but Peter stopped her.

"He looks awful, June. I just want you to be prepared, okay? He doesn't really look like our Neal."

June gave Peter and Elizabeth a nervous smile, before turning and walking through the door.

* * *

June had no idea what to expect, but she knew that it was going to be bad. She remembered a day about eight years before when her granddaughter had been in a car accident. June and Byron made it to the hospital in record time, walking through the front entrance at the same time as her daughter. While they made their way into the Emergency Room, all kind of horrible thoughts ran through her mind.

When the doctor finally came out to talk to them, he warned them that, although she was in stable condition, Cindy looked bad. He tried to prepare them, but June remembered thinking that no amount of preparation would have made the sight of Cindy's bruised and bloodied face less shocking.

Now, as she stood on the threshold of Neal's room, she tried again to prepare herself. A gasp escaped her lips as she got her first glance of the young man that was so dear to her heart. Neal had always had a larger-than-life quality to him, but now…..now he looked broken and fragile.

June stepped over to the bed, collapsing bonelessly into the chair that Peter had so recently vacated. She looked around at all of the machinery that was working so hard to keep Neal alive. Eventually, her eyes made their way back to the young man in the bed and she suddenly couldn't look away. Her eyes traveled over every facet of Neal's face, hoping to find some part that looked familiar…something that would prove to her that this was her Neal….her boy.

After searching futilely, her eyes trekked downward, taking in every bruise, every bump, that littered Neal's body. She took note of the shoulder wound, dressed with clean gauze. She took note of the bruises covering his arms, chest, and stomach. She noticed the large bulky dressing covering his stomach, as well as the bruising that seemed to extend around to his back. Finally, her eyes rested on one of Neal's hands. Tears filled her eyes again when she realized that Neal's hands still looked the same. Gently picking up his hand, she brought her lips to it, feathering it with the lightest of kisses. She was startled to feel how cold it was and she immediately started lightly rubbing it between her own warm hands.

Not knowing what else to do, June started talking to Neal, not even knowing if he could hear her or not.

"Darling, it's been a long day, hasn't it?"

* * *

Almost forty-five minutes later, June stepped out of the ICU and back over to where Peter and Elizabeth were sitting. She was surprised to find that Elizabeth was still awake, figuring that she would have given in to her exhaustion again.

"Elizabeth, I think it's your turn," June said. "And I think it's time for me to get some rest, so I can come back in the morning. You'll call if anything changes, yes?"

"Of course, June," Elizabeth confirmed. "Try to get some rest."

After June left, Elizabeth turned to face her husband. "I don't know if I can do this, hon," she whispered.

Peter pulled her into his chest, burying his face into her neck. After a few long seconds, he pushed her away. "You can do it, El. It's Neal."

With that, Elizabeth gathered her strength, turned, and walked slowly into the ICU.

Her first glimpse of Neal went much the same way as Peter's and June's had. Shock filled her completely, followed by a fear and anxiety that threatened to consume her. Reaching her hand out, she gently stroked his cheek before running her fingers through his hair. She watched him quietly, watching his chest move up and down in sync with the ventilator. She looked at his bruised and beaten face, pale and clammy. She tried to remember how Neal's face usually looked, but her mind couldn't erase the image she was looking at. She tried desperately to remember the exact blue of his eyes and the way his lips curled up into his famous grin, but she couldn't.

Sitting down next to the bed, Elizabeth took the same limp hand that both Peter and June had held into her own. As she sat there, holding his beautiful hand in her own, she thought back over the last several years. Elizabeth was ashamed to admit that there was a time when she hated the mere mention of Neal Caffrey"s name. Her husband's obsession with finding the young con man was almost the undoing of their marriage, early on. She, of course, knew how much Peter's job meant to him before she married him, but his search for Neal had bordered on unhealthy.

She remembered how little he had slept, how much weight he had lost, how distracted he had been, how uninterested in almost everything he became. Their weekend trips were put on hold, their family visits rescheduled. She barely saw her husband more than a few minutes in the morning and maybe an hour or two at night. Of course, those few hours she spent with him at home were mostly occupied with thoughts of Neal. To say that she had grown to hate the young man was probably a complete understatement.

It wasn't until she had given Peter an ultimatum that things changed. The culminating event was when Peter missed their anniversary dinner because of some new leads on Neal's whereabouts. Elizabeth had bought a new dress to wear that night, wanting to look her best for her husband. She spent several hours at the beauty spa getting her hair and nails done. She bought Peter the perfect gift and was looking forward to seeing the look on his face when he opened it.

She remembered that evening so clearly, the hurt it caused her still an open wound sometimes. Sitting at the restaurant, she waited patiently for him to arrive, willing to forgive him for being a few minutes late. After twenty minutes, she called him, only to hear his voice mail pick up. After thirty minutes, she put in a call to the White Collar office, only to be told that Peter was out with his team. After forty-five minutes, she paid for the coffee she had ordered and left.

By the time Peter came home that night, Elizabeth was still awake, still in her dress and heels. She could tell by the look on her husband's face that he had completely forgotten about their anniversary plans. Before he could say a word, Elizabeth stood up and walked upstairs, not trusting herself to stay calm at all. She took a long shower, allowing the water to wash her tears down the drain. After she felt like she had cried enough, she got out of the shower and got ready for bed. Minutes later, she climbed into their bed, curling up on her side. That was the first and last night they had ever gone to bed in anger.

The next few days had been hard for both of them, but they were able to talk things out. Peter apologized profusely for forgetting their plans and then apologized even more after Elizabeth made him realize how much he had hurt and neglected her in the last several months. He knew that the search for Neal was taking over his life, but he was so caught up in it that he couldn't see what it was doing to his marriage. Right then and there, he had promised Elizabeth to back off and to re-prioritize his life.

That wasn't to say that Peter wasn't still just as determined to catch Neal, only that he went about it in a much more reasonable manner. He made sure to spend time with his wife, taking care of her needs and taking care of their marriage. Elizabeth was happy to finally have her life return to some sort of normalcy.

Eventually, though, Elizabeth was drawn into the search for Neal, too. One day when she was cleaning up downstairs, she found one of Peter's files on the young criminal. Before she could stop herself, she was elbow deep in discovering just why her husband had become so obsessed. By the time she was done, she even somewhat understood his obsession.

Neal Caffrey was an enigma.

The young man was undeniably intelligent. Some of the cons and schemes found in his files were amazingly sophisticated and intricate. He had traveled the world once over, spending time in castles and mansions belonging to some of the most famous and richest of men. He was suspected of being involved with women from royalty and nobility. Of course, these relationships and exploits were all alleged, as Neal would be sure to point out if he were awake.

There was absolutely no proof in any of Peter's files that Neal Caffrey was the one that pulled off these purported schemes. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he was guilty, but they had no proof…..nothing to convict him with. Elizabeth understood a little more clearly how easy it was for Peter to become obsessed with all of this. She knew how much her husband liked puzzles, and Neal Caffrey was the biggest puzzle she had ever seen.

By the time Peter and his crew had caught up with Neal, Elizabeth felt an unmistakable connection with him. She knew from the stories her husband told her that Neal was a hopeless romantic and that he allowed himself to be caught just to be able to see Kate again. While it was foolhardy on his part, Elizabeth couldn't help but be awed by his actions.

Almost four years later, when Neal escaped prison to find Kate, she felt the same way_. Who could blame him for escaping, right? Wouldn't Peter have done the same thing for her? _By this time, she had heard almost every story of Peter's time spent searching for Neal. Peter had shared with her all of the cards and letters Neal had sent to him through the years and told her the stories of expensive wines and chocolates being sent to their stakeout vans.

When Neal escaped, she was surprised to find herself hoping that he didn't get caught. The thought of someone with so much passion, intelligence, and talent being locked away in a prison cell was almost too much to bear. She imagined that a soul like Neal's would disintegrate inside the hopelessness of those prison walls.

Of course, it didn't take long for Peter to catch Neal, and she was saddened to realize that he was going back to prison. When Peter came home two weeks later and told her about the deal that Neal had proposed, she felt as if they were standing on a huge precipice, and that whatever decision Peter made would determine the course of their lives forevermore. _Life would be simpler if Neal returned to prison and served out his time, but would it be better? Could either she or Peter live with a decision that resulted in an intelligent, passionate, misdirected young man wasting away behind bars? Neal had served almost all of his original sentence. Did he really deserve to be locked away for four more years?_

Peter's decision to accept Neal's offer was life-changing for all of them. Elizabeth watched as both Neal and Peter flourished under each other's care. Neal was desperate to prove himself, but he was also desperate to gain Peter's approval and respect. Peter was desperate to keep Neal out of trouble, but more importantly to steer him onto the right path, to cultivate him into the man that Peter knew he could become.

There were obvious ups and downs in their relationship, but with Peter's blind faith in Neal's inherent goodness, and Neal's capacity to forgive Peter for his stubbornness and inflexibility, the ups were beginning to outweigh the downs.

Elizabeth remembered the first day she met Neal Caffrey face to face. She had, of course, seen him during the long trial, sitting across the courtroom with an unshakeable look of confidence on his face. Even then, she sensed a certain vulnerability about him, making her want to do whatever she could for him. But, meeting him face to face was a completely different story.

She had been surprised that day when, after a gentle knock on the door, she had opened it to find the infamous con man standing on her doorstep. For one fraction of a second, she saw the raw vulnerability on his face, before his mask slammed down again, presenting her with the confident, swaggering being that was Neal Caffrey. She couldn't help but feel a little breathless at his presence, realizing that this was the man that had nearly consumed her husband's life over the last seven years.

Although she had heard how charming Neal could be, she was woefully unprepared for the actual manifestation of that charm in living, breathing form. The way he smiled at her, the way he took off his hat in her presence, the way he walked into her house once she invited him in was mesmerizing. She had never known anyone so self-assured, so comfortable in their own body. One look into his eyes, though, filled her with a sudden profound desire to take care of him. Yes, he was a man that had proven that he could take care of himself, but deep within his beautiful blue eyes, Elizabeth could sense child-like vulnerability.

In the time it took for her husband to shower and dress for work, Elizabeth and Neal had become like old friends. There was a comfortableness to their conversation that Elizabeth had really only ever felt with her husband and her mother. Neal was a great conversationalist and Elizabeth was surprised to find how many interests they held in common. Although she loved her husband with all of her heart, there were things that the two of them weren't able to share in. With Neal, she could talk about art and fashion and design to her heart's content, without feeling guilty that she was boring him or speaking over his head.

They were on their second cup of coffee when Peter exploded down the stairs, trying to put on his jacket as he talked on the phone. The look on his face when he realized that Neal was sitting in his room was priceless. Elizabeth didn't think it was possible to look exasperated, worried, angry, and relieved all at the same time, but somehow Peter managed it, making her wish she had her camera available.

And then to see him a little flummoxed at the sight of Neal petting Satchmo was even better. She could tell right away that this partnership was going to be entertaining.

What she didn't really expect was how quickly Neal became such an important part of their lives. She knew that in the beginning Peter tried hard to keep his relationship with Neal a professional relationship, but it just didn't work out that way. The first time she realized just how much Peter cared for Neal was during the case they were working on to help June's granddaughter. Apparently, Neal had caused himself to get caught while he was looking for evidence in the Howser Clinic, resulting in him being drugged and tied up. Peter had, of course, gone to dig his partner out of the hole he had buried himself in. Elizabeth didn't know all of the details, but she knew that her husband had been required to do something unscrupulous to get Neal out of there.

Once he hauled Neal back to their house, Elizabeth could tell that despite his anger, Peter was really concerned for the young man. From that point on, things were never the same. Peter and Neal made a great team, solving case after case, bringing their team's closure rate to an all-time high. However, Elizabeth noticed a distinct pattern between the two men.

Undoubtedly, Neal would go off-book, putting himself into some sort of jeopardy, or risking some component of the case to accomplish what he wanted to accomplish. He seemed to have a little bit of trouble understanding what it meant to color inside the lines. Peter, on the other hand, tried to keep Neal on the straight and narrow, but found himself time and time again entering into the gray zones to either reign Neal back in or to help him with whatever he was doing. He was smart enough to know that following the letter of the law was up for interpretation.

The longer they worked together, the more intertwined their lives became. It wasn't long before Elizabeth was inviting Neal over for dinner once or twice a week. There were even a few times when the young man came over early to help her cook. Neal talked Peter into taking him to a few museum openings and Elizabeth always joined them, eager to talk with Neal about the art and artists. Elizabeth had even insisted a few times that Neal stay over at their house, to which the man put up only a ceremonial fight. One night it had been snowing for several hours and Elizabeth refused to let Neal leave. Another night, Neal had shown up at their house looking and feeling poorly from a cold. Elizabeth had immediately gone into mother hen mode, making Neal drink a glass of orange juice and take some cold medicine. She fussed around with him, taking his temperature and settling him on the sofa, before ordering Peter to get the guest room ready. Neal had been too tired to argue, so he sat back on the sofa, watching everything around him with feverish, glazed eyes. He had confided in her the next morning that it had been a very long time since someone had taken care of him like that.

Now, as she sat next to his hospital bed, she wished that there was something she could do. She wasn't used to feeling so helpless and she hated it. Looking around the room, she noticed a stack of washcloths on the counter. Minutes later, she stood next to Neal's bed, gently washing away the sweat that was covering his face. She couldn't stop the tears that fell from her eyes, landing on his cheek. She couldn't stop the trembling in her voice, either, as she softly started singing to him.

Be still and know that I'm with you

Be still and know that I am here

Be still and know that I'm with you

Be still, be still, and know

When darkness comes upon you  
And covers you with fear and shame  
Be still and know that I'm with you  
And I will say your name

If terror falls upon your bed  
And sleep no longer comes  
Remember all the words I said  
Be still, be still, and know

And when you go through the valley  
And the shadow comes down from the hill  
If morning never comes to be  
Be still, be still, be still

If you forget the way to go  
And lose where you came from  
If no one is standing beside you  
Be still and know I am

Be still and know that I'm with you  
Be still and know I am

* * *

Author's note: First of all, the song that Elizabeth is singing to Neal is "Be Still" by The Fray. I claim no ownership to it. It's a beautiful, haunting song and I thought that it was perfect for that particular scene.

Second, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. It went in a completely different direction than I intended it to, but that's okay. My intention was to get to a little more action with this chapter, but it didn't quite work out that way. I hope that's okay with all of you. We all know how important character development is, right? And you should all know by now that I kinda love the angst, lol.

Thanks so much for reading. And a special note to those of you who take the time to review….. I hope you know how much I adore you and your reviews. I love to hear your thoughts and ideas, so keep them coming, please. You never know when something you say might influence the story.


	12. The Moment I Knew

What He Does Best

Chapter 12

* * *

Fear shot through Neal like an arrow, piercing his soul with fire. He tried desperately to open his eyes, but they felt like they were glued shut. He couldn't seem to do anything, actually. His mouth wouldn't open, his arms and legs wouldn't move, he couldn't even seem to take a breath on his own. He had no idea where he was or what was going on.

In fact, the last thing he remembered was getting the crap beat out of him at the farmhouse when he didn't do what Silas wanted him to do fast enough. Victor had been merciless with his fists and boots, leaving him marked almost from head to toe. He had been fairly sure that he couldn't take another single punch when Silas finally ordered Victor to stop.

Neal remembered lying on the floor, trying frantically to get enough air into his lungs at the same time as he was trying desperately not to empty the meager contents of his stomach. His head was spinning violently and every breath, every movement, no matter how small, brought agonizing, unbearable pain. His last thought before passing out was that he really wished that Peter would find him.

He had no idea of how long he had been unconscious, but his next awareness was of the sound of bullets flying everywhere around him. He had opened the eye that wasn't swollen shut and looked around the room, watching as Silas and Victor ran towards the back door, while several of the other men were returning fire from the kitchen window whenever they could.

Neal remembered somehow being able to pull himself up to his knees in an effort to make an escape. Unfortunately, his next memory was of an incredible pain shooting through his stomach, followed by the warmth of his own blood pouring out of him. He had no idea where the bullet came from, just that he needed to get out of the line of fire. Not willing to risk standing up again, he pulled himself out of the kitchen and down the hallway in a slow, agonizing crawl. Once he made it into the bathroom, he closed the door, leaning his body against it. He tried to reach up and grab a towel from the towel rack, but found himself too weak to manage it. Before passing out again, his last thought was of how he would never get the chance to prove to Peter that he was a good man.

* * *

Peter had lost track of how long he had been sitting at Neal's bedside. Elizabeth had gone home to take care of Satchmo and to find someone to watch over him for a while. He had talked her into taking some time to shower and rest, but he doubted she would actually do it. He knew that she wanted to be there for both him and Neal, and that nothing could keep her away.

After she left, he laid his head back against the chair he was in, his eyes resting on Neal's form. He matched his breathing with the steady rise and fall of Neal's chest until he realized that he needed to breathe faster. Eventually, his eyes drifted over to the telemetry monitor, and he watched as each of Neal's heartbeats left a tracing on the screen, each one a simple gift to him. He realized that he couldn't take his eyes off of the monitor, realized that he was suddenly afraid that each heartbeat could be Neal's last, realized finally how intricately Neal's heartbeat was tied in with his own. _When did that happen? When did his happiness, his satisfaction in life, depend on the well-being of a con man extraordinaire? _

Peter contemplated his feelings for Neal for the twentieth time in as many minutes. Before he could finish his current train of thought, his eyes closed and he finally gave in to the mental and physical exhaustion he was suffering.

* * *

Five days later, Peter was still sitting at the bedside of his partner. Neal still hadn't woken up, despite the fact that the doctors had stopped the sedating medication two days before. Dr. Jackson told them that sometimes it takes a while for patients to wake up. He also told them that there was a slight possibility that Neal wouldn't wake up at all.

Peter rarely left the hospital room and when he did the only thing he could think of was getting back to Neal. Elizabeth tried to get him to go home and rest, but he refused to leave. Sometimes, the nurses would kick him out of the room to take care of Neal, but they knew to let him back in as soon as possible. In fact, they allowed Peter to circumvent the ICU's visitor policy, knowing that they wouldn't be able to keep him away.

Peter was there when Mozzie finally came in to see Neal. He was surprised at the fierce emotion Mozzie showed, fear and anxiety oozing out of every pore in his little bald head. He watched as Mozzie sat by Neal's bed, whispering secrets and promises and memories into Neal's ear. He watched as Mozzie's hand took Neal's in his own, not missing the way it trembled.

Eventually, Mozzie let go of Neal's hand, stood up, and faced Peter. "He'll be okay, Suit. He's Neal. He always comes out on top, remember? We just need to give him time."

Peter wanted desperately to believe Mozzie, but he didn't know if he could. "What if he isn't, Mozzie? Even Neal has to have a breaking point."

Mozzie looked sharply at Peter. "He may have a breaking point, Peter, but this isn't it. You have to have faith in him."

Peter looked over at his friend, before turning back to Mozzie. "I _do_ have faith in him. I always have."

* * *

That evening, Elizabeth talked Peter into leaving Neal's side long enough to get something to eat in the cafeteria. When they returned after twenty minutes, they were surprised to see Aiden Kincaid standing outside of the ICU, nervously wringing his hands. Peter's team had been searching for him since the day that Neal was shot. He had been brought to the hospital to get checked out, but somehow in all of the chaos of Neal, he had slipped away.

Peter stormed up to the man, causing him to take a few steps backwards. "Kincaid! What are you doing here? I have half of my unit out searching for you."

The man looked at Peter anxiously. "I came as soon as I could, Agent Burke.

"Where have you been? Why did you leave the hospital?" Peter demanded.

"I had to check on my sister, Agent Burke. I had to know that she was okay. But, Silas found me and up until this afternoon, he kept me closely at his side. I couldn't get away."

"Do you know where he is?" Peter questioned.

"No. He had me blindfolded whenever we were in the car. This afternoon, he drove me into the city, dropped me off at some abandoned building, and told me he would be in touch. I called the FBI, asking for you. One of your agents told me you were here."

"Why did Dmitri keep you with him for so long?"

"Silas took a bullet in the arm as we were leaving. He needed me to patch him up and make sure that his wound was healing." Kincaid looked at Elizabeth nervously before continuing. "Agent Burke, the man is furious that he lost Mr. Caffrey. I overheard him talking with one of his men and he said that he would stop at nothing to get him back. I don't know what the connection is between the two of them, but I'm guessing by how angry he was that it's personal. You need to protect your friend."

Peter pulled out his phone and quickly dialed Diana's number.

"Boss? What is it? Is Neal okay?"

"He's still the same, Diana. There hasn't been any change. Listen, a friend of ours showed up here and I need you to escort him down to the office for a debriefing."

"On it, Boss. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Peter turned back to Kincaid and led him over to the chairs in the waiting room. "Dr. Kincaid, one of my agents will take you back to the FBI building and debrief you on everything. Maybe you can remember something that will help us find Dmitri."

"I'll try," Kincaid answered.

"In the meantime, I want to hear exactly what happened that day."

* * *

After sending Elizabeth back in to sit with Neal, Peter turned to Kincaid, and listened as he told his side of the story.

"Victor came to pick me up at my house. Apparently, Silas was concerned with the state of his captive, and I was meant to check him out and treat him. I grabbed my bag and left with Victor, hoping that your men would stay hidden and still be able to follow us. Once we got to the farmhouse, Victor led me into the kitchen where your man was sitting on the floor, leaning up against a wall. He looked awful, Agent Burke."

Peter's mouth had suddenly grown as dry as a desert and he wished that he had brought his leftover coffee with him.

"He was clearly exhausted and judging by the sallowness of his skin I could tell he was probably dehydrated and feverish. It also looked like he had been used as a punching bag recently . When I went to check on him, he could barely answer my questions. I checked his shoulder wound again and was surprised that it looked okay. His pulse was racing and his skin was so hot to touch. I checked his blood pressure and it was significantly low. I was pretty sure that he was septic."

Kincaid paused to take a deep breath. Peter could tell that the retelling of the events were causing the young doctor a substantial amount of distress, but he had to know what had happened that day.

"Please go on," he pressed as gently as he could.

Kincaid gave him a grave look before continuing. "I was getting ready to start an IV on him to give him some much needed fluids when all hell broke loose. We heard shouting outside and then seconds later the exchange of gunshots. I don't know how your agents did it, but they quickly took care of the two men outside and then started firing on the house. Silas yelled at Victor to grab Mr. Caffrey, but there was too much gunfire and your man was too weak to move. That's when Silas was shot, apparently, because the last I saw of him, he was sneaking out the back door with Victor. At that point, I ran and hid the best that I could. After that, I'm not sure what happened."

Peter couldn't help the surge of anger he felt toward Aiden Kincaid for leaving Neal in the midst of a shootout_. Why didn't he try to get Neal out of the line of fire?_

After a few uncomfortable seconds of silence, Kincaid spoke again, tears clogging his throat. "I'm sorry I left him there, Agent Burke. There was so much chaos and I panicked. I'm so sorry."

Peter now felt a surge of compassion for the man. If it wasn't for him, Neal might not have recovered from his initial gunshot wound so well. "Dr. Kincaid, it's okay. You helped Neal when you could, under extremely stressful circumstances. I appreciate that."

After a few more minutes of talking, Diana finally arrived. Peter gave her a quick update on Neal, and then they talked a few minutes about Dr. Kincaid. Once she had been briefed on the situation, she escorted Kincaid to the FBI building.

And Peter was finally able to return to Neal.

* * *

Neal still had no idea where he was or what was going on, but he was trying valiantly to find some answers. His head felt as if it were stuffed with cotton and his body felt as if it weighed a ton. Giving up on trying to open his eyes or lift his arms, he placed all of his attention on the index finger of his right hand. He knew it was silly, but he felt that if he could just move his finger, even just a little bit, everything would be alright.

As he was concentrating on doing just that, he began to be aware of different noises around him. At first, all he could hear were mechanical whirs and bleeps, hums and hisses. Eventually, though, he thought he heard the ticking of a clock nearby. Giving up on trying to move his finger, he put all of his effort into listening to the sounds around him.

Once he had discovered each new sound around him, he started paying attention to the things he was feeling. He couldn't help but panic a little when he realized that he had some sort of tube down his throat. He also suddenly felt a sense of pain in his abdomen, shoulder, and back. Trying to take his mind off of the pain, he focused on other areas of his body. There was something squeezing his upper arm every so often, tightening around his arm until it was almost unbearable, and then loosening slowly. There was something pinching one of his fingers, causing it to throb a little. He also felt something squeezing his calves, first one, and then the other…..over and over again. Finally, he felt a fullness in his bladder, causing him to wonder how he was supposed to go to the bathroom.

Once he had catalogued all of his various discomforts, he returned to listening to the sounds around him. He was surprised to hear a noise that he recognized as a door opening, and he struggle to open his eyes. When he realized that he just couldn't do it, he listened again.

The first voice he heard was sweet and lilting, but unfamiliar. He struggled to hear and understand what the woman was saying, but it was still difficult. Eventually, he understood a few things, like when she said that she was going to reposition him in the bed. Seconds later, he felt two sets of hands gently pulling him up in the bed and turning him onto his side.

The next thing he heard was that same voice saying that it was time to empty his catheter. He didn't really understand those words at first, but a minute later when he felt the fullness of his bladder recede, he understood. He was mortified to think that he had a catheter draining his bladder.

After that task was done, he listened as that sweet voice continued to talk to him, as if he was able to carry on a conversation. She explained to him everything she was doing and then talked about the movie she had watched the night before. Neal was having a hard time following everything she said, but it seemed like his head was clearing more and more with each passing minute.

Eventually the lady, who he had finally decided must be a nurse, told him goodbye, saying that she would be back to check on him soon. As her voice grew fainter, he felt a sudden loss fill him, realizing that he was all alone. Minutes later, he surrendered to the sudden exhaustion he was feeling.

* * *

The next time Neal woke up, he immediately recognized the sound of a familiar voice, causing his heart rate to accelerate rapidly. _Elizabeth….._

"What's going on?" Elizabeth asked the nurse who was checking the monitor.

"It's okay," the nurse explained. "He might just be having a little bit of pain. I'll get him some medicine."

Once she had left, Elizabeth turned her attention back to Neal, grabbing his right hand gently with her own. Looking at his pale face, she thought for just a second that she had seen his eyelids moving. She wanted desperately to see his blue eyes again, so she figured she was just imagining things.

Neal listened as Elizabeth's beautiful, soft voice talked to him. She seemed to be rambling on about whatever came to mind, but didn't care. Hearing her voice was his lifeline. He tried to follow what she was saying, but would sometimes get lost in her words. He heard her talking about how Mozzie had been by to see him earlier that day, and how he had left Neal a present. Next, she talked about how June stopped by twice a day to sit by his bed and either read to him or sing to him. She told him that Satchmo really missed him and that he needed to hurry up and get better, for the poor dog's sake. Then, he heard her voice break a little as she talked about how lost Peter was without him. She told him that he had to get better, so that Peter could get better, too.

Neal listened for what seemed like hours, half of his concentration on her words and half on his attempts to let her know he was listening. It wasn't until the nurse returned, ready to give him some pain medication, that he finally succeeded. As he concentrated on the feel of Elizabeth's hand holding his, he used every bit of strength he had to gently squeeze her hand. The yelp of surprise that came from Elizabeth was music to his ears.

* * *

Neal's nurse, Marnie, was just about to inject Fentanyl into Neal's IV when a sudden shriek from Elizabeth startled her.

"Oh my God, Marnie….He moved! He squeezed my hand!" Elizabeth cried.

"Are you sure?" the nurse asked. "Are you sure it wasn't just a twitch?"

"I'm sure," Elizabeth said. "He squeezed my hand, Marnie."

Holding off on giving the pain medicine, Marnie turned to the young man lying on the bed. "Neal? Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand, if you can, okay? Just like you did for Elizabeth."

Marnie and Elizabeth waited for what seemed like an eternity, but nothing happened. Marnie tried talking to Neal again, hoping for the sake of Elizabeth that it wasn't just a twitch or reflex. Just as she was about to give up, she felt the faintest tightening of Neal's hand.

"Neal, do that again, okay? I need to know that it's you doing it and not just some reflex."

After a few long seconds, she felt the gentle squeeze again, this time causing her to shriek in excitement, too.

Elizabeth gave Marnie a quick hug, before turning back to Neal, tears falling freely down her face. "Neal, I'm right here, okay? I'm right next to you, holding your hand. I won't let go, Neal. I promise."

Marnie tried to elicit a few more responses from Neal, but it seemed that they weren't going to get anymore at the moment. Turning to Elizabeth, she told her that she was going to call Dr. Jackson and give him an update. Without taking her eyes off of Neal, Elizabeth asked her to also find Peter for her, not wanting him to miss this moment.

* * *

Peter rang the bell to be let back into the ICU. Walking through the door, he noticed Neal's nurse talking on the phone, looking rather excited about something. As he walked through the door to Neal's room, he immediately noticed that Elizabeth was crying.

"El? What's going on? Did something happen?" Peter walked as fast as he could over to Neal's bedside, checking out all of the monitors on the way. Other than his heart rate being a little faster, everything looked the same.

"Peter," she cried, standing up to meet him. "He squeezed my hand! Can you believe it? He's starting to wake up."

Peter wanted desperately to believe what she was saying, but he didn't want to get his hopes up. "Are you sure, El? Are you sure it wasn't just a twitch or something? He does that sometimes."

"I'm sure, hon," Elizabeth insisted. "He squeezed Marnie's hand, too."

With those words, Peter fell into the chair that his wife had been sitting in, his legs suddenly too weak to support him. With a wide-eyed, tearful gaze, he looked over the still form in the bed.

_He's going to be okay. Neal's going to be okay….._

* * *

Author's note: There you go, folks! I hope you all liked hearing a little of Neal's side of the story. You can't keep the man quiet for too long, right? I'm thinking that things will be moving on a little faster now, so bear with me. There's definitely more fluff, angst, and drama coming up in the near future. I hope you all stay tuned for more.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. You are all truly appreciated.


	13. An Anchor For My Soul

What He Does Best

Chapter 13

* * *

Silas Dmitri was not a happy man. It wasn't just because his left arm felt like it was on fire. Or because he had lost several good men in the shootout. It wasn't even because the damn FBI had found his farmhouse. No…..Silas Dmitri wasn't a happy man because once again Danny Brooks had managed to mess everything up.

As he sat in his car, he thought about how much he hated the name Danny Brooks and the man behind that name. He had hated the boy from the very first time he had laid eyes on him, actually. The kid had been nothing but a constant scrawny reminder of the man that had ruined everything for Silas and his family. James Bennett was solely responsible for bringing down the Flynn family when he turned State's evidence all those years ago. At the time, Silas had been married to the daughter of Dennis Flynn, Sr., and he had watched helplessly as his beloved wife became mired in depression and self-destructive behavior at the loss of her father. He had known from the beginning that Shannon loved her father more than anything, but he had always hoped that she would learn to love him as much and that he would be enough for her.

After her father was sent to prison, she began to spend her days locked in her room, ignoring her husband and baby daughter, and drinking until her sorrow disappeared in a haze of drunkenness. Silas tried to get her the help she needed, bringing in the best doctors and therapists he could find, but it was futile. Nothing seemed to help stop the downward spiral.

Shannon's behavior became more and more unstable and eventually, there came a time when he didn't trust her to be alone with his daughter. Silas remembered coming home one afternoon to find Aislinn still inside his wife's car and his wife sound asleep in their bedroom. This led to Silas hiring a nanny, giving her strict instructions to never leave Shannon alone with the baby. One afternoon, just a few months later, he received a frantic call from their nanny. He listened in utter disbelief as she told him that Shannon had tricked her into stepping just outside the door and then slammed the door shut, locking it behind her, effectively leaving the baby alone with the unstable young mother.

Silas remembered rushing home that day with all sorts of worse case scenarios running through his mind. He made it home in record time and nearly broke the front door down before remembering that he had the house key on his keychain. Seconds later, he ran through the house, searching frantically for his wife and child. To his great relief, he found Shannon sitting on the floor of the nursery, gently rocking Aislinn in her arms.

After making sure that both his wife and child were okay, Silas sank down next to his wife, wondering how his life had fallen apart so completely in such a short time. _How did this woman sitting next to him go from being a devoted, loving wife and mother to an unstable, unpredictable miserable drunk?_

If Silas had known of what was to come, he would have taken his precious child far, far away from Shannon. Instead, he continued to have blind hope that Shannon wouldn't ever really harm their daughter. He continued to ignore the warning signs that his wife was quickly reaching the point of no return.

After their first nanny quit the job, citing the fact that she didn't feel safe in the house, Silas had quickly hired another one. He also tried to make sure that he was home more often, working as much as he could from his home office. The new nanny seemed to be working out well, but eventually Silas received another frantic call. This time his blood ran cold as she told him how Shannon had hit her over the head with a heavy vase, knocking her completely out. When she woke up, the front door was wide open and Shannon's car was missing. So was the baby.

Silas spent hours searching for his wife and child. He immediately called out to the Flynn family and before too long he had a valid search party set up. They looked in all the familiar places that Shannon would normally go, but never saw a single sign of her. Eventually, one of Shannon's brothers thought that maybe she had gone to see her father. Within minutes, Silas was on his way to the Attica Correctional Facility where Dennis Flynn, Sr. was being held. It was a long drive and Silas hoped feverishly that Shannon would come to her senses and just return home.

Unfortunately that wasn't going to happen. After Silas had been driving for almost forty-five minutes, he noticed that the traffic in his lane had slowed down dramatically as cars attempted to merge into the far lane. A cold chill swept over him and he had a sudden sensation of a large ice cube settling in his stomach. He stayed in the lane he was in, inching forward at an unbearable pace, praying over and over again that his wife and child were okay.

Eventually, he was able to see a gathering of flashing lights about three hundred yards in front of him. When it seemed that the traffic in his lane was at a complete standstill, he pulled his car over to the right as far as he could. Once he felt like he was safely out of the lane as much as he could be, he turned the engine off, opened the door, and climbed out of the car. Within minutes, he was running as fast as he could toward the flashing lights, praying and hoping that he was just overreacting.

When he was less than a hundred yards away, he could make out what looked like a red Toyota and a semi-truck severely mangled together. Even though he couldn't make out the model of the red Toyota, he knew deep within his heart that it was his wife's car. His stomach immediately began to rebel, and he suddenly found himself hunched over, emptying his stomach of the remains of his expensive lunch.

It took almost two additional hours to extract his wife and child from the mangled mess. Both were pronounced dead at the scene. Silas found himself wishing that he were lying there on the cold pavement next to them, covered with a white sheet. Instead, he was left standing there, held in place by the strong arms of one of New York's finest, staring at the impossibly small form of his beloved daughter.

He knew now that he should have done more to help his wife, but that knowledge would never bring back his Aislinn. She was gone, and although he took a fair share of the responsibility for what had happened, he laid most of the blame on James Bennett. James Bennett had taken Dennis Flynn, Sr. out of Shannon's life and had proven to Silas, once and for all, that he would have never been enough for his wife.

So, obviously his hatred for James Bennett would extend to his son. Interestingly enough, Silas had no idea that Tessa Brooks was James Bennett's wife at first. It was a total fluke that he had moved to St. Louis after the death of his wife and daughter, and even more of a fluke when he met Tessa Brooks at a local art gallery.

After several successful dates with the beautiful young woman, she finally introduced him to her son. Immediately, there was something about young Danny Brooks that unsettled him. He didn't put it all together at first, but he just knew that there was something about the kid that he didn't like.

Danny had always been a quiet kid, sneaking around the house as if he didn't want to be noticed. He barely spoke to Silas, choosing only to do so when it was expected. He came and went whenever he pleased, not seeming to follow anyone's rules but his own. The only one who came anywhere close to being able to control the boy was his Aunt Ellen. For some reason, Danny listened to her.

Once Silas had become a permanent part of the household, things came to a head. He discovered that not only was Danny annoyingly intelligent, he was also immensely artistic. This new found knowledge inspired an idea that Silas thought was brilliant. He had already put together a small team to help him with his next plan, but suddenly his plan would be made easier by including the talents of the boy.

Of course, Danny didn't seem to want anything to do with him. Eventually, the boy's stubbornness became a real problem for Silas. He had no intention of putting up with the boy's defiance and sullenness. In their first big battle, Danny had been found spying on Silas's meeting with his team. They were in the middle of planning a bank robbery, something that didn't go unnoticed by the young boy. Once Silas had dragged Danny upstairs to his room, after soundly slapping him across the face, he had proceeded to thrash the boy with his belt. He was hoping that by showing Danny just who was in charge in their relationship, he would be more successful in getting the boy to do what he wanted.

Instead, everything became an all-out battle between the two of them, usually ending with Danny nursing a sore backside or a burning cheek and Silas drinking away his frustration. Silas had hoped to be able to entice Danny into helping him by making it all seem a little desirable, and at times he was certain he saw Danny's interest piqued, but the boy stubbornly steered clear of anything to do with Silas.

It wasn't until the shoplifting incident that the tide started turning in Silas's direction. To his satisfaction, Tessa always yielded to him, even in dealing with her son. When Danny was caught shoplifting a pair of ten dollar sweatpants, Tessa left Silas to deal with the boy. Silas decided to use the situation to his advantage. Of course, that was after he took the opportunity to punish Danny severely again. He didn't know why, but he took some sort of perverse pleasure in causing the young boy pain, both physical and mental.

Having Danny go back to the store to steal another pair of sweatpants was his way of toughening the boy up. If Silas was going to use him on his team…and he had every intention of doing just that….. the boy needed to learn subterfuge. If he couldn't steal a pair of sweatpants out from under the nose of a dime store cop in a discount clothing store, then there was no way that he could be of any help in their big score. Silas felt it was his responsibility to teach the boy, whether the boy liked it or not.

On the way to the store, Danny had pleaded with Silas, begging him to not make him shoplift again. The kid was terrified of getting caught and going to jail, but Silas didn't care. Danny knew that he had no choice but to do what the man said. Once they were at the department store, Silas stopped an extremely nervous Danny from jumping out of the car.

"Wait! Before you go in there half-cocked, I want you to take a few minutes to look around, check out the scene."

After ten minutes of waiting as Danny looked around the store, Silas finally interrupted him. "Okay, tell me what you see," he prompted.

Danny had no idea what exactly he was supposed to be checking out, but he gave it his best shot. "There's only one door that works from the outside, but two from the inside. There are three checkout counters, but only the two furthest from the door are in use. The guard made two circuits inside the store while I was watching, both taking him about three minutes. It looks like there's a camera right outside the front door, but I can't tell if there are any more on the inside."

Silas had been impressed with the boy's ability to effectively case the place. "Anything else?"

"Yeah," Danny replied nervously. "I think the guard likes the cashier. After each of his circuits, he stopped by her checkout counter and talked to her. The way he was leaning toward her makes me think he likes her."

"So, do you have a plan?" Silas asked.

"Yeah, I have a plan," Danny said as he was climbing out of the car. "There he goes on his rounds. I'll be back."

Silas watched as the boy walked into the store, noticing for the first time that he wasn't wearing his normal clothes. He always thought it was weird how the boy liked to dress nicely, so seeing him in a pair of sweats, a sweatshirt, and a baseball cap was even weirder.

From the car Silas watched as Danny disappeared from sight, only to reappear a few minutes later. He watched as the boy followed the security guard up to the checkout counter. _Did he get caught? _As he continued to watch, he noticed that both the security guard and the cashier were laughing at something the boy said. Minutes later, Danny strolled out to the car, opened the door, and threw a small plastic bag at Silas.

"Let's go," Danny said as he sighed heavily.

Silas eyed the boy closely before opening the bag. "What is this?" Silas asked as he held up a rather large pair of underwear.

"I bought those for you. I told the cashier that my step-dad was a really huge man and he could only buy his underwear in that store."

Silas wanted to slap the smug look off of Danny's face, but there were several people close by in the parking lot. Instead, he continued to question him. "Are you so stupid that you forgot why you went in there? Where are the sweatpants?"

Silas couldn't help but smile when Danny pulled his sweatshirt up to reveal the fact that he was wearing two pairs of sweatpants. "Nice work, kid," Silas said, truly impressed. "Nice work."

He couldn't help but notice that Danny had a peculiar look on his face…..almost as if he were proud of himself for pulling it off successfully.

* * *

Silas pinpointed that day as being the day that everything changed in his favor. Not that he could prove anything, but it seemed that after that day Danny often came home wearing clothes he had never seen before. He hardly ever asked Tessa or Silas for money for anything, yet the boy always seemed to have whatever he needed. Tessa questioned the boy a few times, but he always had some explanation at the ready and she wasn't interested enough to actually doubt him. Silas admired the boy's confidence and affability, wondering why he hadn't noticed it before. The kid was a natural.

It was almost like the boy was reinventing himself right in front of Silas and Tessa. He suddenly became more and more manipulative and Silas didn't think he had ever seen someone lie so effortlessly. The only person he hid these new-found characteristics from was Ellen Parker. Whenever she was around, Danny reverted back to the boy he had so recently been.

Of course, Silas's relationship with the boy hadn't changed much. Danny still avoided Silas as much as he could, but eventually Silas approached the boy with a request for help. When Danny heard that Silas needed him to try to forge something for him, he had immediately refused. Silas saw the interest in the boy's eyes, though, and after forcing Danny to sit down and listen to his offer, the boy finally agreed to help.

As far as Silas knew, that was the first true forgery Danny had ever done, and it was astonishing. After that, whenever Silas looked at the boy, he couldn't help but imagine the things they could do together. Silas suddenly had great plans for Danny Brooks.

* * *

The next time Neal woke up he felt as if he were drowning in a sea of water. He tried desperately to catch his breath, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't pull enough air into his lungs. Suddenly aware that he had something in his throat that was choking him, he tried to reach up and pull it out. Instead, he found that his hands were tied down by something and panic surged through him. _Where was he? What was going on?_

Using every last bit of strength he could muster, he pulled against whatever was restraining his hands. Using his legs, he lifted his middle off of the bed, only to have a piercing pain shoot through his abdomen. Instead of causing him to abandon the fight, the pain only sent him into even more of a panic. His head was pounding, his heart was thumping erratically in his chest, and his lungs were burning with the desire to breathe. There were loud noises all around him, only adding to the fierce dread in his mind. He had no idea what the alarms meant, but there were so many. Suddenly, he started hearing what sounded like a multitude of voices, a chaos of words joining the cacophony of alarms. Just as everything was about to overwhelm him, he heard something that calmed his soul…the desperate, anxious, concerned voice of Peter Burke calling his name.

"Neal! Neal, it's okay, buddy. You're okay."

Neal zeroed in on that voice, trying desperately not to lose it in the chaos surrounding him. Peter's voice was his lifeline, his anchor, his salvation. He tried to call out to Peter, but once again was reminded that something was in his throat, that he couldn't talk. When panic threatened to overwhelm him a second time, he tried frantically to find Peter's voice again. _Where was he? Was he still there?_

"Neal, calm down, buddy, okay? I'm right here."

Neal zeroed in again on Peter's voice, this time turning his head in the direction that it came from. He tuned out every other sound around him, focusing all of his attention on Peter, hoping that the man wouldn't stop talking. Neal had a sudden maniacal fear that if he lost Peter's voice again, he himself would be lost forever.

"That's it, buddy. Just calm down. You're doing great, son."

Peter's gentle tone washed over Neal, calming the storm that was raging inside of him. With great effort, he opened his eyes briefly, trying to find Peter. The bright lights that were shining down on him nearly blinded him, so he quickly closed his eyes, wincing at the pain that shot through his temple. He could feel someone messing with the tube in his throat, causing him to violently cough. He also felt someone messing with his right arm and minutes later, he felt a warm haziness wash over him. Focusing on the sound of Peter's voice next to him, he allowed the haziness to completely envelop him, pulling him back down into the dark nothingness.

* * *

Once Neal had calmed back down, Peter sank weakly into the chair next to the bed. "What just happened?" he asked the nurses that were surrounding his friend.

Grace, one of Peter's favorite nurses, offered him a reassuring smile. "He's just starting to wake up more and it can be a little disconcerting at first," she replied. "Having that tube in your throat can be a pretty scary feeling, Peter, especially when you don't understand why it's there. When a patient fights against it, it can make them feel like they're not getting enough oxygen. It's pretty common for patients to panic a little."

"I'd say he was panicking a lot," Peter said. "And I would really rather not ever have to go through that again."

"No promises that it won't happen again, Peter, but he definitely was reacting to your voice. If you notice that he looks like he's starting to wake up again, start talking to him, okay? That might be enough to keep him from panicking."

"I'll do my best," Peter answered. He continued to sit next to Neal as the nurses worked to get him all straightened out again. Peter was surprised at the amount of strength Neal had shown during his fit. He took that as a good sign that Neal would recover from everything. As he sat in the chair, he kept his eyes on Neal's face as he gently stroked his arm. The tenseness that had been present earlier in the young man's face had disappeared completely, leaving behind a look of peace and calm. Peter stared at every facet of Neal's face, wondering how he could still look so young despite living such a stressful life. For the first time, Peter wondered if Neal was really as old as he claimed to be. _The kid was a master forger, right? How difficult would it be for him to forge a birth certificate? _He'd have to have Diana and Jones check into that further one day soon.

With nothing else to do, Peter started talking to Neal, telling him about some of the new cases that had come into the White Collar division while he had been gone. He wasn't sure that Neal could even hear him, but he did notice that his heart rate seemed to slow a little. Once he was done talking about the new cases, he launched into a story about how Satchmo had taken to sleeping in the guest bedroom the last few nights. Elizabeth insisted that it was because that was Neal's room and Satchmo really missed Neal. Peter had to agree with that, which led him to start wondering just when he had started thinking of the guest bedroom as Neal's room.

By the time Peter was done talking, Neal's heart rate, blood pressure, and respiratory rate were the most stable they had ever been. Peter sat back and watched his friend, but before too long, he had fallen asleep, his hand grasping Neal's hand firmly, but gently. An hour later, Elizabeth showed up to find Peter sound asleep in the chair, still holding Neal's hand, and Neal wide awake on the bed, watching Peter sleep.

"Hi, sweetie," Elizabeth said softly as tears streamed down her face. "We've missed you."

* * *

Author's note: Well, I hope you all don't mind that most of this chapter was from Silas Dmitri's point of view. I didn't intend to have it be so long, but the man just had so much to say, lol. I would love to know what you all think about his backstory (which I'm not completely done with yet). Does he seem a little less monster-ish after finding out what happened to him? Can you empathize or sympathize with him at all? Just curious.

I can't wait for the next chapter. I'm ready for Neal to wake up and join the party and I'm ready for some more Peter/Neal bonding. Those two just make me so happy, lol.

Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. More to come soon…..


	14. Out Of The Woods

What He Does Best

Chapter 14

* * *

Neal had no idea where he was or what was going on, but he didn't feel scared. Sure, he hated the feeling of whatever was in his throat and he hated the fact that he didn't feel in control of his body. But, from the moment he had opened his eyes and was finally able to focus, he was calmed by the fact that Peter was sitting right next to him.

The older man was sound asleep in a chair next to Neal, his head slumping chin to chest. The loud snoring that was coming from the man made Neal wonder why no one was coming to investigate the fact that it sounded like a train was running through the room. He had never heard Peter snore quite like that!

As Neal watched his partner sleep, he realized that something warm was covering his right hand. Lifting his head off the pillow slightly, he could see that Peter's hand was gripping his with a firm grip. Neal didn't know why, but the sight of that quickly brought tears to his eyes. Peter had always been a rather affectionate man, frequently placing his hand on Neal's shoulders or ruffling his hair, but this was different. This was a more intimate touch, not just a fleeting act of a friend or co-worker. This was more like something a father would do to a son, a big brother to a little brother, even a husband to a wife. This was the touch of family, he realized, and suddenly he felt shocked to the core of his very being.

Neal had known for some time that his relationship with Peter was more than just a working, partner-type relationship. He knew that he and Peter both thought of each other as friends. Somewhere along the way, though, Neal had started to think of Peter in other terms. He wasn't sure exactly when it started, but he figured that it had something to do with his father.

Once James Bennett had reappeared in his life, Neal began to realize what Peter truly meant to him. He wasn't lying the day that he told his father that Peter had been more of a father to him than James had ever been. It was Peter that had been there for him when Kate died. It was Peter that had helped him through Ellen's death. He had been there, right by his side, as Mozzie lay fighting for his life on two separate occasions. Peter was there to help him whenever things were going crazy. Whenever his life seemed to be spiraling out of control.

Of course, there had been some bad blood between the two, as well. Neal knew that he was responsible for most of that bad blood and he was amazed that Peter had stayed true, even through the worst of it. Neal had done some pretty foolish and impulsive things in the last few years, but Peter hadn't given up on him.

Neal remembered how surprised he was that Peter was able to forgive him after the whole fiasco with the Nazi looted art from the submarine. Even after Elizabeth had been kidnapped by Keller! Of course, Peter had been inordinately upset with Neal when he found out that Neal had the art in his possession. Neal knew that Peter felt as if he had been betrayed. Neal also knew that he deserved to go back to prison for his part in that and he wouldn't have blamed Peter at all if that had happened. Instead, when Keller admitted to stealing the art all by himself, Peter had kept quiet about Neal's involvement. Neal still felt guilty at the thought of Peter compromising his own rigid set of morals, especially knowing that he had done it time and time again because of him. Peter had every reason to despise all things Caffrey, but luckily for Neal, he didn't.

In fact, Peter seemed to really care for Neal. This fact made Neal incredibly happy, but it also scared the hell out of him. His circle of friends had always been kept fairly tight. His circle of trusted friends even tighter. Actually, up until recently, his circle of trusted friends consisted only of Mozzie. Neal had loved Kate immensely, but after her disappearing act, he never really trusted her again. Alex was too much like him to be trusted and he knew that Sara would never be able to really accept him for who he was. The only other person he had ever unequivocally trusted was Ellen Parker, but due to his life choices, she hadn't been around much and now she was gone.

To realize that he unequivocally trusted Peter had been a life changing moment for Neal. It wasn't that he thought that Peter would always look the other way for him or even that he thought the man really accepted him for who he was. The reason that Neal truly trusted Peter was because he knew that everything the man ever did for him was done with only his best interests at heart. He might not think they were done in his best interest, but he knew deep down that they were. Peter Burke tried to hold him to a higher standard and wanted him to be a better man, and that, too, scared the hell out of him.

Neal wasn't sure if he had it in him to be the kind of man Peter wanted him to be. He wasn't one to blame his flaws and failures on other people, but Neal knew that he had grown up with a huge disadvantage. What kind of man would he have been if he had grown up with positive role models and in a nurturing environment? What path might he have taken if Silas Dmitri hadn't entered his life? If his mother had actually been a decent mother? If his father hadn't been a murderer and a corrupt cop?

He had enjoyed the life he was living before Peter caught him, but Neal realized now that he wanted more than that. It was exciting and adventurous to travel the world, running cons and schemes, living the high life, but Neal always remembered that at the end of the day he was left wanting more. He had never admitted it to himself, but he had been exceedingly lonely and tired.

Meeting Peter and Elizabeth had changed things for him. Being witness to the life they had built together stirred up a deep yearning in him. Suddenly, it wasn't enough to be able to travel the world. It wasn't enough to wear the finest clothes, eat the finest foods, drink the finest wines. He realized that he wanted someone to share his life in a way that Kate or Sara never could. He wanted someone that made him want to be a better man. He wanted someone to protect, to cherish, to love unconditionally. And once he recognized that, he realized that he wanted even more. A home, a regular job, children of his own. He wanted the only dream that ever really mattered…. a shared life.

As he lay there thinking about all of these things, he pondered again the man sitting at his bedside. The one thing he could never understand about the man was why he felt that Neal was worth saving. Peter Burke had caught many a criminal in his time with the FBI and Neal was pretty sure that he didn't feel for those criminals the way he felt for him. _Why? What did Peter find so special about Neal? What made him want to help such a selfish, dishonest criminal_?

Neal knew that Peter had a deep respect for his intelligence. He also knew that the man liked a good challenge and that he saw him as the greatest challenge of all. But, after all that Neal had put the man through in the years they had known each other, why hadn't he given up yet? What did Peter have to gain from having such a cancerous presence making his life harder than it needed to be? All Neal did was bring heartache and frustration. How could Peter not see that?

As he continued to study the sleeping face of his partner and friend, Neal failed to realize that the door had opened. He didn't know how long Elizabeth had stood in the doorway, studying him as he studied Peter. He had no idea how long she stared at his pale face, witnessing the raw emotion that showed so clearly in his eyes. He wasn't sure what made him look up, but when he did, his heart melted at the sight of Elizabeth looking at him with so much love and concern.

* * *

Elizabeth immediately walked over to Neal's side, excited to see that his eyes followed her the entire way. He looked so young and vulnerable lying there, his face pale, but with a slight flush to his cheeks. His hair was plastered to his forehead and she could see small beads of sweat on his face and chest. One of their biggest concerns was that an infection would consume Neal's body, sending his organs into failure. The doctor had warned them that Neal's kidneys might fail, requiring dialysis, but so far that hadn't happened. Fortunately, whatever treatment they were giving him seemed to be effective.

"Hi, sweetie," Elizabeth said softly as tears streamed down her face. "We've missed you."

Neal wanted to reach out and wipe the tears from her face, but when he tried to lift his arm, he remembered that he was strapped down. Elizabeth noticed the movement and quickly grabbed his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"It's okay, Neal. These restraints are just to keep you from pulling out the endotracheal tube. We can take them off as soon as the tube comes out, okay?"

The thought of keeping the restraints on for any longer nearly sent Neal over the edge. Despite the fact that he could usually get out of any type of restraint if given time, he hated being restrained. Especially now, when he thought that he wouldn't have the strength to work his way out of these anyway. He pleaded with his eyes, hoping that Elizabeth would understand how desperate he was to be free of the restraints.

She must have understood him, because her next words sent waves of happiness through him.

"Okay, sweetie…..I'll ask the nurse if we can take them off for a while."

Leaning over his bed, she grabbed his call light and pushed the button to call the nurse. Minutes later, Grace walked in to see what was needed. She couldn't help but be surprised to see her patient wide awake. She also couldn't help but be taken aback by the vibrantly blue eyes that were staring desperately at her.

"Neal! You're awake!" she said cheerfully. "When did this happen?" she asked as she turned to Elizabeth.

"I'm not sure, Grace," Elizabeth answered. "I just got here a few minutes ago and found him awake."

"I'm so glad to see you awake, Neal," Grace said as she checked her patient over. "Can you squeeze my hand for me?"

Neal squeezed her hand as hard as he could, which admittedly wasn't very hard. Once he had done that, the nurse asked him to wiggle his toes, as well. After shining a bright light into his eyes and checking a few other things, she told them brightly that she was going to let his doctor know that he was awake. As she turned to go, Elizabeth stopped her.

"Grace, I think these restraints are bothering Neal. Would it be okay if we took them off for while? I'll stay right here and make sure he doesn't pull on anything."

Grace looked at Neal doubtfully, but after seeing the pleading look on his face, she quickly agreed. As soon as she released the restraints, Neal weakly lifted his left hand to his face. Elizabeth and Grace both stood ready to stop him if it looked like he was going to pull on the tube in his throat, but instead Neal reached above the tube to scratch madly at his nose. The look of relief that crossed his face at finally being able to scratch the infuriating itch made both Elizabeth and Grace laugh out loud.

After a few minutes of scratching, Neal finally put his arm back down to his side. Elizabeth and Grace both laughed again when they were treated to the infamous, but slightly distorted Neal Caffrey grin.

* * *

Peter had no idea how long he had been asleep, but when he woke up there was a flurry of activity in the room. His stomach lurched at the thought that something had happened to Neal while he was asleep and he couldn't fight the surge of guilt that shot through him.

Sitting up in the chair, he looked frantically around him, only to realize that the flurry of activity was much too controlled to be anything serious. As relief shot through him, he stood up and stepped closer to the bed. A second later, he registered the fact that Elizabeth was standing on the other side of the bed and that Neal's eyes were open. He literally felt his knees weaken at the sight of those familiar blue eyes and thought that maybe he should sit back down. At the same time, though, he realized that he was still holding onto Neal's hand and the man was gently squeezing his fingers.

Giving Neal the biggest smile he could muster, Peter squeezed his hand back. "It's good to see you finally decided to rejoin us, Neal," he said with a grin.

Neal tried to smile back, but the tube in his throat made it difficult. Peter could tell that the young man was in pain and tired. Turning to the others surrounding the bed, he searched out the doctor that was treating Neal. "Dr. Jackson? How is he?"

Dr. Jackson, who had just finished examining Neal, looked steadily at Peter. "Well, so far he seems to be neurologically intact, although we'll know more once he can talk to us."

"When will that be?" Peter asked, anxious to hear his friend's voice again.

"Peter, Neal's been on the ventilator for almost a week. His body has been greatly traumatized and he has experienced some deconditioning during this whole process. We have to tread gently for now and we need to make sure that he is truly ready to be breathing on his own."

"How will we know when he's ready?" Elizabeth asked.

"I'm going to order a chest X-ray first and then after I've seen the results we can start doing what's called a spontaneous breathing trial. That will help to determine how strong Neal's lungs are and how well he is likely to do if we take the tube out."

"How soon can we do those things?" Peter asked impatiently.

"We can get the chest X-ray done right away, Peter. And then I will have the respiratory therapist come in for the breathing trial. That will take about an hour to do, so I think it would be best if you and Elizabeth go grab some lunch or something."

"No," Peter stated firmly. "I'm staying here."

"Peter, it's important that Neal is able to do everything the therapist tells him to do. He doesn't need any distractions, so it would be best if you and Elizabeth leave for a while."

Peter looked like he was about to argue more, but Elizabeth gently grabbed his arm. "It's okay, hon. We want Neal to do the best he can, so the tube can come out. Dr. Jackson knows what he's talking about, so if he thinks it's better that we leave, we'll leave."

Peter still didn't look convinced, but gave in to his wife's words. He almost changed his mind, though, when he saw the look on Neal's face.

"Hey, kid, it'll be okay. El and I will go grab some lunch while Dr. Jackson and Grace take care of you, okay? You're in good hands, Neal, and I promise that El and I will be just down the hall."

Neal still looked like he wasn't convinced that they would come back and the sight nearly broke both Peter's and Elizabeth's heart. Elizabeth bent down and gave Neal a kiss on his forehead, while Peter placed his hand on Neal's uninjured shoulder and squeezed.

"We'll be back as soon as they let us, Neal," Elizabeth said.

"Listen to Dr. Jackson and do as you're told," Peter said sternly, laughing at the look on Neal's face. He didn't need to be a mind reader to know that Neal was trying to tell him to stop treating him like a kid.

With that, Peter and Elizabeth turned and walked out the door. Peter was pretty sure that nothing had ever been so hard.

* * *

As it turned out, Neal's lungs weren't quite strong enough yet to have the tube removed. The X-ray revealed that he had a mild pneumonia in his lower right lobe, so Dr. Jackson and Neal's other doctors decided that he would need to stay on the ventilator a little longer.

Neal was not happy with the situation. In fact, he was quickly becoming a rather difficult patient. The nurses were all very patient with him, but he was doing his best to make sure that everyone knew how he felt. He refused to be repositioned when the nurses felt it necessary. They would come in and turn him to his right or left side, but by the time they left the room, he had wiggled himself back to his back. He frequently kicked off the pillows on his bed and the pulsating stockings on his legs. He refused to open his eyes when they wanted to check his pupils and he refused to follow any of the commands they gave him when they were checking his neurological status. All in all, he was acting like a five year old throwing a tantrum.

To his great surprise, it was Elizabeth who finally called him out on his behavior. After one particularly exasperating afternoon, where a student nurse literally ran crying from his room in frustration, Elizabeth couldn't take it any longer. Peter had stepped outside to take a call from Diana, leaving Elizabeth to deal with Neal's increasingly petulant behavior.

"Neal George Caffrey, that is enough!" she finally yelled. To say that Neal was surprised was a complete and utter understatement. Elizabeth had never spoken to him in such a way and Neal was pretty sure he never wanted her to again.

"What has gotten into you, young man? You're acting like a five year old and I'm telling you right now that I am _not_ putting up with it anymore."

Neal, of course, couldn't defend himself. He couldn't do anything but lay in the bed as Elizabeth continued to scold him like a child, his ears growing redder and redder by the second.

"I know you're tired and frustrated with everything, but that doesn't give you the right to throw a tantrum and make everyone's life miserable. These nurses are just trying to do their job and they deserve more respect from you. You have no idea how hard they've all worked to take care of you this past week and I won't have you treating them so poorly. Is that clear?"

Neal stared at Elizabeth several seconds before finally nodding his head. He knew he was being impossible and he knew that the staff didn't deserve to be treated so poorly, but he was just so frustrated. He hated being told that he had to be repositioned when he was completely comfortable the way he was. He hated being woken up from a good sleep to go through yet another long and tedious neurological exam. He hated the bed baths. He hated the way they combed his hair after washing it, knowing that they weren't doing it the way he normally did. He hated the smell of the formula they were putting into his feeding tube and he hated the fact that he had a catheter in his bladder. IV sticks, blood draws, constantly being poked and prodded. He hated being so absolutely, totally helpless.

"Okay, then," Elizabeth said. "From this point forward, I expect you to be the most cooperative, compliant, gracious patient this hospital has ever seen. If I see you being uncooperative again, you and I will be having a very long talk once you're out of here. Do you understand?"

Neal nodded again, while thinking to himself that Elizabeth's idea of a "very long talk" didn't sound like something he wanted to experience. He felt a sudden sense of shame wash over him at the thought of how awful he really had been. He would have to find a way to make it up to the hospital staff once he was better.

Elizabeth sat down on the edge of his bed and took one of his hands in hers. "Sweetie, I know this hasn't been easy for you. I know how much you hate not being in control of what's happening to you and I'm sorry that it has to be that way for now. But, you're getting stronger every day, Neal. Each morning, when they do the breathing trial, you're doing better and better. You need to be strong for just a little longer, okay?"

Neal squeezed Elizabeth's hand, hoping she knew that he was going to do his best to not let her down. A few minutes later, Peter came walking back into the room with a confused look on his face.

"Why did I just see a young student nurse run out of here crying? Neal, what did you do?"

* * *

Two days later, Dr. Jackson and Dr. Bailey, his pulmonologist, decided that Neal was ready to be extubated. The last two days he had been a model patient and was once again everyone's favorite. So, when it was finally time to take the tube out of his throat, his room was packed. Peter and Elizabeth were there, of course, and so was June. Mozzie was waiting out in the hallway, unwilling to be in such tight quarters with so many "disease infested health care workers." Diana, Jones, and Hughes were standing in the corner, waiting anxiously to see how he would do.

With June and Elizabeth each holding one of his hands, Neal watched everything the staff was doing. He had been warned that the tube removal wasn't the most pleasant experience, but Neal was just desperate to have it out. After removing the holder that was securing the tube in place, taking some of his hair with it unfortunately, the respiratory therapist suctioned out his mouth. Another therapist deflated the cuff of the endotracheal tube and seconds later he pulled it out. Neal immediately started coughing and gagging, but calmed down after several seconds. As soon as the nurse had placed the oxygen cannula in his nose, he turned to Peter with a weak smile.

"Did you miss me?" he asked in a weak voice, causing everyone around him to laugh.

Peter smiled back at the young man. "More than you can imagine. Welcome back, partner!"

* * *

Author's note: Yay! Neal's finally awake. He still has a little bit of a recovery ahead of him, but with support from his friends, it shouldn't be too bad. I just hope they all enjoy the calm before the storm that's coming (hint, hint).

I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. I would love to hear your thoughts on it. As you know, reviews are a valuable asset writers. Hearing your thoughts and ideas on a story is an immense help to me, making it easier to shape the story into one you will enjoy.

Thank you all so much for reading. I love to write and it makes me happy to know that someone is enjoying my effort. ;)


	15. Demons

What He Does Best

Chapter 15

* * *

The next several days were filled with physical therapy, occupational therapy, and speech therapy sessions. Neal was surprised and embarrassed to find himself so weak and he tried desperately to keep the extent of it from Peter. Peter had always been somewhat of a worrier, but with recent events, he was almost unbearable. From the way he made sure that Neal ate all of his food to the way he monitored how much he was urinating, Neal was tired of all the extra attention.

Unfortunately, Peter wasn't the only one that was overly worried about Neal. Elizabeth constantly monitored his food intake, as well, and June worried about his fine motor skills. Mozzie just worried that Neal was still in the hospital and continued to be exposed to the dregs of society in virus form.

Diana and Jones were the only ones who didn't treat him like he was fragile and helpless. Neal looked forward to their visits, but unfortunately they weren't able to come as often as he would like. When they did show up, they usually spent several minutes talking with Peter about whatever case they were working on, before regaling Neal with boring examples of the world of White Collar crime without Neal Caffrey.

Eventually, Neal was able to convince Peter to go back to work. The man wasn't happy to leave Neal to himself for hours at a time, but truth be told, Hughes was anxious to have him back at work. He really didn't have much of a choice. Neal wondered what exactly Peter thought he was going to do when he could barely walk more than fifty feet without someone's help. Of course, Neal knew that if anyone could find trouble in a situation such as this, it was him. He knew he would have to be careful.

The night before Peter was to return to work, he sat down at Neal's bedside and had a much needed heart to heart with the younger man. Neal was aware that they had been dancing around the subject of Silas Dmitri ever since he had woken up, and he really wished that the dance could continue. Peter, on the other hand, was tired of the dance.

"Neal, we need to talk about a few things," Peter started.

"We've been talking all afternoon, Peter," Neal said. "I'm not sure what else there is to talk about."

"Come on, Neal. I think you know what we need to talk about. I know a little about what happened to you, but there are a lot of missing pieces. I know you've explained everything to NYPD, but it's my turn, okay?"

Neal looked away from Peter, not wanting him to see how much he really didn't want to talk about Silas. He knew that he owed his friend an explanation, not only to help with the investigation, but because Peter deserved it. The man had been there for him in more ways than any other person and Neal truly appreciated that. He had kept his relationship with Silas quiet for long enough. In fact, divulging everything to Peter was more for his own benefit than anything else. Neal needed to purge himself of the guilt and remorse he felt for the things he had done at Silas Dmitri's behest.

"I don't know where to start," Neal answered quietly.

"Just start at the beginning," Peter prompted.

Neal looked even more nervous at that idea. "Peter, I did things back then. Things that I'm not proud of. Things that could cause trouble for me."

Peter could tell the young man was nervous and wanted to do what he could to ease his discomfort. Standing up, he pulled his chair even closer to Neal's bed, and placed his hand on his uninjured shoulder.

"Neal, I know I don't have all the facts, but I think I'm right in my understanding that your initial dealings with Silas Dmitri occurred when you were just a child."

"I was thirteen, Peter. That's hardly a child anymore, especially in the eye of the law."

"It doesn't matter, Neal. The statute of limitations have undoubtedly expired on any alleged crimes you committed back then."

Neal didn't speak for what seemed an eternity, but when he did, Peter felt as if the world had been knocked off its axis, as if the earth had opened up and swallowed him whole, as if everything he believed in had been proven wrong.

"There is no statute of limitations on murder, Peter."

* * *

Neal couldn't help but notice the look of shock and dismay that suddenly covered Peter's face. He wished with all of his might that he could be anywhere but in his hospital room, watching as Peter's faith in him plummeted.

"Neal, I asked you about that, remember? From sundown to sunup, I gave you full immunity for your alleged wrongdoings, but that was after you told me that murder was not part of that. So, now you're telling me that you lied to me?"

"No!" Neal cried. "I didn't lie to you, Peter. I've never killed anyone, I promise."

"Then what are you talking about?"

"I didn't kill anyone, Peter, but I didn't do anything to stop it from happening, either. I may as well have been the one that pulled the trigger."

"Neal, you are not responsible for the actions of others. I'm assuming that it was Dmitri's deal?"

Neal slowly nodded his head, surprised to feel a surge of dizziness flow over him. "I was sixteen the first time it happened," he explained.

"The first time?! It happened more than once?"

"Yes," Neal answered. "I'm aware of two separate times, but I'm sure there were more. And I didn't know anything about it, Peter. When we talked over the plans, Dmitri said that if everything went as planned, there would be no violence. I believed him!"

"But, he didn't stay true to his words…."

"No. He never stayed true to his words. I don't know how I ever forgot that."

"Neal, can you start at the top and tell me what happened?"

Neal pulled himself up stiffly, allowing Peter to prop a pillow behind his back. He gently rubbed his injured shoulder, before taking a deep breath and starting his story.

"Dmitri didn't like me much, at first. He thought I was a waste of space and a thorn in the sides of both him and my mother. I tried to steer clear of him as much as I could, but he liked to have me where he could keep a close eye on me. And he did. I was almost thirteen when he came into our lives and I hated him from the very first time I laid eyes on him."

"My mother fell hard for him right away and before I knew what was happening, he had married her and moved in with us. He was a….. well, he was a tyrant, for lack of a better word. He hated me and he took every opportunity to tell me how worthless I was, until I almost started believing it myself."

"But, everything changed when he found out that I could draw. Once he found out, he started treating me better…..no more threats to my safety, no more name-calling, and no more…"

Neal couldn't bring himself to finish that line of thought.

"No more what, Neal?" Peter asked patiently. When Neal didn't answer, he tried again. "Neal? No more what?"

"It's not important, Peter, okay? Let's just drop it."

Peter sent an incredulous look at his partner. "It_ is_ important, Neal. I need to know what he did to you."

Neal sank down further into his bed. "I don't want to talk about it. I'm tired."

"Neal, you can't hide from this forever. In order to heal, you need to come to terms with this in any way you can."

"I will," Neal said. "Just not today, Peter. Please…."

"Okay," Peter agreed. "But, we're going to talk more about this tomorrow, okay? I'm going to head into the office in the morning, but I should be here tomorrow afternoon, after all of your therapy sessions."

Neal was grateful for the reprieve, even if it was only to be a short one.

* * *

June sat at Neal's bedside, watching as the young man slept restlessly. He had a pained look on his face and a slight sheen of sweat covered his body. His hair was flat and listless, something that June knew he would hate. When the restless sleep turned to agitation, where Neal tossed anxiously in the bed and moaned softly, June decided it was time to wake him up. Standing up, she walked to the head of the bed and gently pushed his lank hair off of his forehead.

"Neal? Darling, I need you to wake up, okay? Neal?"

Eventually, Neal opened his eyes and looked frantically around him in confusion. It only took him a few seconds to gather his senses and immediately pull his "I'm fine, everything's alright" mask back on. June, of course, was much too smart to fall for that.

"Neal, how are you? And don't you dare tell me that you're fine! It's obvious that you're not," June gently scolded.

Neal pulled himself up into a sitting position as he tried to figure out what to say. "I'm okay, June. I just had a bad dream. How long have you been here?"

June looked like she wanted to know more about the dream, but decided to let it slide when she saw the barely concealed pleading look in the young man's eyes.

"I got here about an hour ago, darling. You've been asleep the whole time."

"I'm sorry," Neal answered quickly. "You should have woken me."

"Nonsense," she chided. "You need to rest whenever you can, Neal."

Neal frowned at that, obviously unhappy with the realization that his body was betraying him. He hated feeling so frail and weak. "What I need is to get out of here," he growled. "I'm going stir crazy, June. In fact, I'm going to leave tomorrow, with or without the doctor's approval."

"You'll do no such thing, young man," June admonished. "You'll not leave this hospital until the doctor allows it."

Neal knew better than to argue with June. She could be just as scary as Peter when she was mad about something. Besides, if he was honest with himself, he knew that she was right. The last thing he needed was to put himself through any needless stress.

"Fine," he finally said. "But, if I stay here, do you think you could at least bring me something to do? I'm really going to go crazy if I have to keep staring at these walls or keep watching television."

"Of course, Neal. Why don't I bring by some of your art supplies? I'm sure your therapists would approve of that type of therapy."

"That would be great, June. Anything to take my mind off of things."

June wondered exactly what Neal needed to take his mind off of the most. She knew that the young man wasn't one to talk much about his personal life and she knew that the recent events were closely tied into his past. She wished that he felt comfortable sharing some of his childhood experiences, but she knew not to expect it. Sometimes she really felt a desire to take the boy and shake some sense into him_. Didn't he know that he had people in his life that cared for him? Didn't he realize that they would do anything in their power to help him? _But, if he kept everything away from them, they were limited on how much they could help him.

"Neal, you _do_ know that I am always here for you, don't you? If and when you're ready to talk about anything, I'll be here."

"I know, June," Neal answered with a hesitant smile. "Maybe one day.

* * *

By the time Peter returned to the hospital the next afternoon, Neal was exhausted. His therapy sessions had been particularly draining, for some reason, with each therapist pushing him to and then past his limits. When Peter walked into the room, Neal was sound asleep. The majority of his dinner was still on his tray, causing Peter to feel a familiar sense of frustration with the young man. _How was he ever going to regain his strength if he didn't nourish his body sufficiently?_

Sitting in the chair closest to the bed, Peter watched the gentle rise and fall of Neal's chest. He knew that the young man's stamina was nearly nonexistent, but he was still taken aback by how weak Neal still appeared to be. Not for the first time, he wondered if maybe the hospital wasn't pushing him too hard, so he made a mental note to question the doctor the first chance he got.

He sat by the bed for nearly forty-five minutes, reading through some case files while Neal slept. Eventually, the sound of him flipping through the files roused Neal from his sleep. The young man didn't seem to like the fact that Peter didn't wake him up.

"How long have you been here?" he asked.

"Almost an hour," Peter answered.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Neal asked. "I'm sure you have better things to do than watch me sleep."

"Actually, I enjoy watching you sleep," Peter said playfully. "It's one of the few times I'm sure that you're not getting into any trouble."

"Very funny," Neal grumbled. "I don't always get in to trouble, you know…."

"Of course, you don't," Peter answered. "Not when you're sleeping or when you're under my direct supervision."

Peter nearly laughed at the offended pout that crossed Neal's face. _ He really could be such a child at times_, he thought affectionately.

Standing up, Peter pushed the tray table closer to Neal, who tried to push it back away.

"You need to eat, Neal," Peter said firmly, making sure that the table didn't move at all.

"I can't eat that, Peter," Neal whined. "It's not palatable."

"I'm sure it doesn't live up to your usual fare, but I'm sure it's not that bad."

"Fine! Then you eat it," Neal grumbled as he pushed the table away again.

"Neal, you can't expect to get out of here if you don't keep your strength up. And you can't keep your strength up if you don't eat. Your nutritionist explained to you how important nutrition is to healing, remember?" Peter gently pushed the tray back towards Neal.

"I know it's important, Peter, but it won't do me any good if I can't keep it down, right? And I can assure you that if I put that sorry excuse for a meal into my stomach, it won't stay there." Neal pushed the tray away again.

"I think you're exaggerating a little, aren't you? It can't be that bad."

"Well, if you don't believe me, why don't you try it yourself?" Neal asked with a grin.

"Fine!"

Peter picked up the knife and fork and sliced into the chicken breast on Neal's plate. Neal nearly laughed at the determined look on Peter's face as he continued to saw at the chicken.

"It's a little tough," Peter admitted just before putting a bite into his mouth. Within seconds, the man picked up a napkin and spit the food into it. "Wow! That's really bad!"

"Coming from the man who loves deviled ham, that says a lot," Neal laughed.

"Okay," Peter said. "I've got an idea. Elizabeth is on her way here, so I'll have her stop and grab something that you'll like."

Neal's eyes lit up at that, knowing that Elizabeth would bring him something more to his liking. Minutes later, Peter hung up his phone, assuring Neal that Elizabeth would be there soon. While they were waiting for her to arrive, Peter went over a few of the more interesting case files he had brought with him, hoping that Neal could deliver some new insight into them.

By the time Elizabeth arrived, Neal had discovered several links to the case files, sending Peter and the rest of the team into a completely different direction. Peter was once again amazed by Neal's ability to spot things that the rest of his team had missed.

When Elizabeth unpacked the bag she was carrying, Neal was delighted to see several containers of cuisine from his favorite Mediterranean restaurant…..roasted eggplant with a feta dip, mustard crusted salmon, and Sicilian marinated olives. She had also included an order of his favorite dessert…..pomegranate poached pears. Peter, of course, turned his nose up at the whole meal, stating that he would rather eat what was on Neal's hospital tray.

Neal and Elizabeth laughed, knowing that Peter's palate was the most unrefined palate ever to exist.

* * *

Once Neal's appetite had been satiated and he had spent some time talking with Elizabeth, Peter decided that it was time to resume their talk. Elizabeth kissed Neal on the forehead and said a quick goodbye, even though Neal was begging her to stay a little longer. He really wasn't ready to continue their previous conversation.

Just as Elizabeth closed the door, it reopened to reveal Neal's night shift nurse. Peter sat quietly while the young nurse did a quick, but thorough assessment on Neal. He rolled his eyes repeatedly as Neal turned on the infamous Caffrey charm, leaving the young lady flushed with delight. He also rolled his eyes at Neal's blatant attempt to keep the nurse in the room in order to delay the conversation.

Eventually, the nurse left, and Neal immediately began squirming in his bed, knowing that Peter was waiting patiently for him to start talking. Just as Peter was about to say something, Neal sat up on the edge of the bed. Peter watched as the young man maneuvered his way to the edge of the bed and slowly stood up. A wave of dizziness washed over Neal, causing Peter to jump up in alarm.

"I'm okay," Neal said. "I think I just got up too fast. Just give me a minute."

Seconds later, Neal grabbed the walker that was sitting next to his bed and headed to the bathroom. He hated using the walker, especially in front of anyone, but his strength was still severely weakened. He stayed in the bathroom as long as he dared, before slowly returning to his bed. Not knowing any other ways to delay the moment of truth, he raised his head up and looked Peter straight in the eye.

"Are you done?" Peter asked with a smile.

"Done with what?" Neal asked innocently, giving Peter a sheepish grin.

"Are you done with finding ways to delay our talk? I can stay here all night if I have to, Neal, so you're not getting out of it."

"I'm done," Neal finally admitted.

"Okay, you were telling me before exactly what Silas Dmitri did to you when you were younger."

"Peter, I don't really think that's important. It's over and done with and I really don't care to relive it, to be honest."

"It is important, Neal. And I don't think it really is over and done with."

Neal gave Peter a strange look. "It happened years ago. It's over."

Peter could feel the familiar frustration building in him. "Neal, when you were first brought in here, Dr. Jackson gave me list of all of your injuries. I know that Dmitri, or someone working for him, beat the hell out of you. I can still see shadows of the bruises he left on your body. And I know that someone used a belt on you. Your back is still covered with the faded bruises from that."

Neal didn't say anything, instead choosing to look past Peter to the door. Peter could tell that the young man was wishing frantically that someone would walk through that door.

"Neal, using a belt on someone is a very personal form of abuse. I know that it was Dmitri that did that to you and I'm pretty sure that it wasn't the first time. I think that he was trying to exert dominance over you in a way that he thought would break you. In a way that he's broken you before."

"He didn't break me," Neal said loudly. "Not then and not now."

Peter's heart sank at the confirmation of his fears. The thought of Silas Dmitri whipping a young Neal was almost too much for him to handle and he suddenly had an overwhelming urge to remove the man from the planet…permanently.

Looking back at the young man in the bed, Peter continued. "Neal, I need you to tell me how bad it was for you. When you were a kid…"

"Why, Peter? What does it matter?"

"It matters, Neal. To me, personally, and to whoever learns of the crimes you committed with Dmitri. No judge in the world is going to blame an abused child for doing what his abuser tells him to do."

"I wasn't abused," Neal stated adamantly.

"Yes, you were," Peter stated just as adamantly. "Call it what it is, Neal. The man used his power over you both physically and mentally. You were just a kid."

"I held my own against him," Neal said. "He may have hit me, but I held my own. I didn't let him break me, Peter."

"What do you mean by "I held my own," Neal?" Peter asked.

"I mean that I gave him back just as good as he gave me," Neal answered. "He may have controlled me physically, but I controlled him intellectually. None of his heists were ever really truly successful for him, because I always found a way to sabotage them. He never knew what was going on until the day that he killed that man."

Neal stopped talking, his mind taking him far away as he remembered something he had tried so hard to forget. He knew that he wasn't the one that shot that man, but he couldn't help but bear full responsibility for it happening. If it wasn't for him trying to mess things up for Dmitri, the man would still be alive.

Peter watched as Neal seemed to be working through something. He didn't say anything, instead choosing to let Neal come back to him on his own. It took several minutes, but eventually the young man started talking again.

"I should have just stayed out of it," Neal said. "If I had, that man would still be alive. His kids wouldn't have had to grow up without their father. It's my fault."

"What happened, Neal?" Peter asked gently.

It took Neal several more minutes to start talking again, but eventually he did.

"I forged a painting for Dmitri, the summer I was 16. I had done a few other forgeries for him, but this one was a big deal. One of his men had stolen it from a gallery that his sister worked in. Dmitri brought it to me and told me that I had until the next morning to duplicate it or else. I didn't have to ask him what the 'or else' meant. He also said that it had to pass the scrutiny of the gallery's newly hired, slightly inexperienced authenticator. Or else."

"I worked on it for almost nineteen hours, barely taking any breaks at all. When I was done, I knew that it was nearly perfect. There was no way it wouldn't pass the authenticator's inspection. Dmitri nearly wet his pants when he saw the finished product," Neal remembered with a smile. "The man was nearly beside himself."

"The plan was to return the forged painting before the gallery opened at nine o'clock that morning. The man that had stolen the original painting was to take the forgery back there. He had stolen the key and the access code from his sister, so they all thought that returning it would be simple. I had other plans for them, though."

"Once Dmitri had gone to bed to get a few hours of sleep, I snuck out of the house and went to the gallery. The place had a fairly decent security system…a key pad had to be accessed first and then a deadbolt lock had to be unlocked within thirty seconds of the key code being entered. Unbeknownst to any of us, if someone tried to break in and didn't follow the process, a silent alarm went off, alerting the owner of the gallery. I didn't know how to mess with the key pad, so I did the next best thing. I put a small wad of chewing gum deep into the deadbolt lock, making it impossible for the key to rotate the lock cylinder."

Peter smiled at Neal's ingenuity.

"When Dmitri's man, Richard, showed up, he entered the correct key code, and then stuck the key into the lock. Of course, the key didn't fit in the lock correctly, which caused the silent alarm to trigger. Richard tried and tried to get the key to work without luck. A few minutes later, he called Dmitri and explained what was going on. Dmitri rushed to the gallery, trying to salvage their heist in any way that he could. Once he was there, he realized that it was too late. They were out of time. Just as they were about to call it all off and get out of there, the owner of the gallery showed up. He confronted the two of them, threatening to call the cops. Dmitri wasted no time in ending the situation. I watched from the alley behind the gallery as he pulled out his gun and shot the man. Point blank in the chest."

Neal stopped talking and Peter watched as he took several deep breaths.

"It was my fault, Peter. If I hadn't messed with the lock, Richard would have been able to get the forgery into the gallery. Dmitri would have stayed home. And the gallery owner wouldn't have been killed. It's my fault he died."

"No, Neal. It's Dmitri's fault he died. Dmitri is the one that pulled the trigger, not you. Dmitri is the one that made you forge the painting. That was all his fault."

Peter could tell that Neal didn't agree with him, but he didn't know what else to say to convince him. "What happened after that?" he finally asked.

Neal was quiet for several minutes, his memories obviously taking him back to that day. "I must have cried out when the gun went off, because Dmitri turned and saw me in the alley. He grabbed me and drug me over to spot where the man lay dying, forcing me to look at the man. I remember he asked me why I was there and if I had anything to do with what was going on. I told him that I just wanted to watch Richard break into the gallery, that I was just curious and wanted to see it all go down. I didn't think he believed me, but he let go of me. They quickly wiped down all of the surfaces that Richard had touched, even though he had gloves on, and then we left. When we got home, Dmitri threatened me, telling me that if I ever told anyone about what happened, he would hurt my mom. You're the only one I've ever told."

Neal looked at Peter, afraid of what he might see in his eyes. No matter what Peter said, he would always think that it was his fault that the gallery owner died. He was responsible.

What he saw in Peter's eyes could only be described as a combination of sadness and rage, and suddenly Neal was glad that he hadn't told the man the rest of the story. Peter didn't need to know that after Dmitri threatened his mother, he had doled out the worst beating Neal had ever endured, leaving the poor boy unconscious and barely breathing.

No, Peter definitely didn't need to know that…

* * *

Author's note: Well, here's a little more Peter/Neal bonding and a little more backstory on Dmitri. What do you all think of the Dmitri backstory? I'm thinking that Peter is going to have even more reason to go after Dmitri now. I'm also thinking that the next chapter should have Neal finally leaving the hospital. Yay!

Thanks for reading. I would love to hear your thoughts on the chapter/story. Take care!


	16. I'm Falling Apart, I'm Barely Breathing

What He Does Best

Chapter 16

* * *

Peter knew that Neal wasn't telling him everything, but he didn't want to be too pushy. He told himself it was because he didn't want Neal to feel uncomfortable, but the truth of the matter was that he really didn't think he himself could stand hearing it at the moment. Neal had been more forthcoming in the last thirty minutes than he had ever really been and Peter was extremely grateful for that. He knew that the young man found it hard to talk about his past.

Neal looked like he was ready to call it quits, but Peter needed to hear the rest of the story. Giving the young man a reassuring smile, Peter prompted him to continue.

"What happened after that?"

Neal stared at his hands for several minutes before continuing. "Like I said, Dmitri wasn't really convinced that I didn't have something to do with the heist going wrong, but he couldn't prove anything. He went back to treating me like he did in the beginning and I went back to doing whatever I could to stay out of way and walking on eggshells whenever I was home. It was a very….. unpleasant time."

Peter was pretty sure that 'unpleasant' wasn't the word that Neal really wanted to use.

"Eventually, Dmitri and his men came up with another plan, but this one was even bigger. I hoped that they wouldn't need me, but they did. Things had changed, though. Dmitri rarely let me out of his sight, so any plans I had to sabotage his plans went awry."

"What was the plan this time?" Peter asked.

"All I knew at the time was that it involved a bank. By this time, Dmitri had figured out that I had an affinity for lock-picking, so that was to be my job. He had a man that knew how to disable the alarms and I was supposed to learn from him, in case something went wrong. Mac and I spent many long hours together, working on disabling an exact replica of the bank's alarm, as well as a few other types. He taught me everything he could and eventually I was as good as he was. Dmitri also made me practice picking every single lock he could find."

"By the time we were ready to pull off the plan, I had complete confidence that I could do my part of the job. Dmitri's intel showed that the bank was empty between 9 pm and 6 am, and that there were police patrols in front of the bank approximately every hour. His plan was to start at 2 am and to be in and out within forty minutes."

"As soon as the 2 am patrol went by, we started. We didn't have any problems with the alarms or the locks and we were inside the building two minutes ahead of schedule. The bank vault they were targeting had an older combination lock, but it was no match for the two of us. We were inside the bank vault at least three minutes ahead of schedule."

Neal suddenly grew quiet, his gaze focused on the blanket he was covered with. Peter gave him a few minutes to himself before bringing him back to the present.

"Neal?"

Neal suddenly looked up, almost as if he had forgotten that Peter was even there. After clearing his throat, he continued. "Everything was going as planned, Peter. Everyone was doing their part and it looked like we were going to get away with it. But, then we heard a noise in one of the offices at the back of the building. We all stopped what we were doing and listened, trying to figure out what the sound was. A minute later, we heard a door close down the hall and the sound of two voices, a man and a woman. We found out later that they both worked there and that they were having an affair. Unfortunately, they chose to meet at the bank, rather than a hotel somewhere."

"What happened to them?" Peter asked. He was already dreading the answer, knowing that it couldn't be good.

"What do you think happened to them, Peter?" Neal asked. "I remember praying that they would go out the back exit, but the woman told the man that she needed to get something out of her desk. Before we knew it, she was walking towards us and we had no place to hide. Dmitri grabbed her as she turned the corner and without batting an eye, he broke her neck. I remember she let out a small scream, but then she was on the floor right in front of me, her eyes open, but completely sightless. In less than six months, I had witnessed two people killed right in front of me."

Neal was quiet again for several more minutes. Peter could see that a fine sheen of sweat covered his friend's body and he wondered if maybe they should stop for the night. Instead, he asked Neal what happened next.

"Next? Well, the man must have heard the woman scream, so he came running after her, only to meet much the same fate. He struggled a little, but he was no match for Richard. After that, we moved as quickly as possible, cleaning out the vault in record time. Dmitri had two of his men stay behind and wipe down everything, even though we were all wearing gloves. We started at 2am, left the bank at 2:45, and we were back home by 3:30. Dmitri sent me straight up to my room, but I had to take a detour into the bathroom where I threw up so much that my stomach ached afterwards."

"They never figured out who was responsible?" Peter asked.

"Never. If you check with St. Louis PD, those cases are still open."

"Neal, I'm sorry. No sixteen year old should have ever been a part of that."

Neal laughed, causing Peter to look at him in concern. "The funny thing, Peter, is that I was actually enjoying myself that night. It felt good to know that I was able to pick those locks and silence those alarms. I remember feeling like there wasn't anything that could stop me from getting whatever I wanted. I was on cloud nine for a while."

"Then it all came crashing down, right?" Peter asked.

"Just like that," Neal said with a snap of his fingers. "Dmitri was happier than I had ever seen him over the next few days. He told my mother that he had come into quite a large sum of money and she didn't question him at all. My mom really didn't care where the money came from. All she cared about was that he bought her nice jewelry and plenty of alcohol. By this time, she was so far down the rabbit hole with her alcoholism and mental illness that there was no bringing her back."

Neal paused, but quickly began again. "I wasn't doing too well after that. I went to school and did what I was supposed to do, but I wasn't sleeping at night and I couldn't keep anything down at all. I lost weight and eventually I started falling behind in my school work. Neither my mother nor Dmitri cared that I was losing myself. They barely noticed me when I was there and never missed me when I wasn't. I started staying out later and later, and eventually I started staying out for days on end. I really felt like I was disappearing in front of my own eyes, Peter. It was the worst thing I had ever felt."

Peter tried to act like he didn't notice the tears in the young man's eyes, but they were hard to miss. He wished with everything he had in him that he could take the pain away from Neal. He wished that he could have been there to keep the kid from falling into such despair.

Eventually, Neal continued. "Ellen saved me. Again. Because of Dmitri, we rarely saw each other anymore. He refused to let her come into our house and he forbade me from going to hers. She would, of course, find ways to check on me, but sometimes it was several weeks before we saw each other. When she finally caught up with me again, I was back to hanging out at Hal's Pool Hall. Hal knew a little about the situation at home, so he let me stay at the pool hall as long as I needed. He also looked the other way when I was hustling. In his own way, he took care of me the best he could."

Peter had a different opinion of what Hal had done, but he kept it to himself.

"One afternoon, I was sitting outside of the pool hall, trying to cool off a little bit, when Ellen drove by. When she saw me, she turned her car around and sped into the parking lot. I remember that she jumped out of her car, yelling at me at the top of her lungs, and then suddenly stopped yelling when she got a good look at me. By the time she could speak again, she was crying and hugging me so hard that I couldn't breathe."

"She knew that something horrible must have happened, but I couldn't tell her any of it. She made me go home with her and I spent the next several weeks at her house. She called my mom that first night, prepared to put up a fight if she had to, but my mom didn't argue with her about me staying there. Instead, she said it was good that I was staying there, because Dmitri was planning on taking her to the Mediterranean for a few weeks. Can you believe that? I was falling apart, piece by piece, and they were planning a vacation!"

Peter's heart ached fiercely for the man lying in the bed in front of him. _How could anyone treat a child that way, much less a mother? _

"The month I spent with Ellen was difficult, but it was exactly what I needed. She took me to the hospital where I was treated for severe dehydration and fatigue. She had me talk to a counselor and even though I couldn't tell him what happened, he helped me work through a few things. She made sure I ate and slept, and she made sure I stayed caught up on my school work. She held me responsible for getting myself back on track, which wasn't easy. I had fallen pretty far off track. I was happy when I was with her, Peter. I almost felt like the old Danny Brooks….. the pre-Dmitri Danny Brooks. But, it didn't last."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked with a feeling of dread filling him.

"Eventually, Dmitri needed to do another job. Once they returned from their vacation, where they blew an obscene amount of money, Dmitri made me come back home. Ellen tried to talk them into letting me stay, even going so far as to call the Marshalls, but in the end I was made to go back home. That house was like a disease and it didn't take long for me to fall prey to it."

Peter now felt like his heart was being torn open. _No child should have those memories of home. Home should be a place where you felt safe and loved, not afraid and desolate._

There was a part of Peter that wanted desperately to stop the conversation, to keep his heart from being torn open any further. But, another part wanted Neal to continue, hoping that by divulging the travesty that was his childhood, he would purge himself of the bitterness. Peter wished that he could take it all from Neal. He would carry it all himself, if he could.

"Dmitri continued to plan different heists, making sure to involve me as much as he could. He had me forging paintings and bonds, picking locks, stealing priceless artifacts, even driving the getaway car every now and then. I barely went to school, so there was no way I was going to meet the graduation requirements. I quit going at the end of my junior year. No one, except Ellen, cared that I dropped out."

"Eventually," Neal continued, "I turned eighteen. I had this great plan that I was going to follow in my father's footsteps and join the police force. I think there was a part of me that thought that I could atone for all of the bad things I had done by becoming a police officer. The day that I was going to sign up for the police academy, Ellen told me the truth about my father…..that he was a dirty cop. She knew that I would find out when I tried to sign up for the academy and she didn't want me to find out that way. Then, she told me about WitSec and how my name wasn't really Danny Brooks, but Neal Bennett. I was so mad, Peter. I had spent my whole life thinking that my father was a hero and wishing that he wouldn't have died. I spent so many nights imagining what life would have been like if he was still there. To find out that everything I knew or thought about my father was a lie was devastating. To find out that I wasn't even who I thought I was? I can't even explain how betrayed I felt. How lost I was."

Peter didn't answer. He had no idea what to say to the young man that had poured out his heart….finally. He could barely look at Neal, knowing that his friend's eyes were filled with grief and that his own were filled with pity. Neal wouldn't want to be pitied.

"You know the rest of the story, Peter. I ran as far away as I could and I started over. I changed my name to Neal Caffrey and I made my way in this world the only way I knew how to. I took the skills I learned at Silas Dmitri's hand and I carved out a life for myself. I wasn't proud of the things I did, but I wasn't sorry for them, either. I did what I had to do to live. And then I started to enjoy doing what I did. The only way I ever felt truly alive was when I was working some scheme, planning some heist. I know that doesn't make any sense, really, but it's true. I think that deep down, I realized that being a con man was all I could be. Nature vs. Nurture, right? By nature, I was the son of a thief, corrupt cop, and murderer. By nurture, I was the son of a drunken, selfish, mentally ill woman and an evil, maniacal thief and con artist. What chance did I have to be anything better?"

* * *

Peter was completely spent by the time he made it home that night. He knew that he still had a few more things to talk about with Neal, but neither one of them could take any more that night. He truly felt that he was more exhausted than he had ever been in his life.

Elizabeth was waiting up for him, curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea and a book. The normalcy of what she was doing was out of place in the framework of his current mindset. Sitting next to her on the sofa, he leaned his head against the back and let out a deep breath.

"Is everything okay?" Elizabeth immediately asked. "How's Neal?"

"He's fine," Peter said in a tired voice. "Dr. Jackson said that he might be discharged in the next few days."

"That's great," Elizabeth exclaimed before noticing that Peter didn't look particularly excited. "Isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's great, El. I think Neal is ready for a change of scenery."

"Okay, what's wrong, then?" she asked. "You look like a little boy who's lost his puppy."

Peter gave her a tired smile, wishing that he didn't have to have this conversation with her. He knew he had no choice, though. "Neal talked to me tonight, El. I mean he _really_ talked to me. He told me all about is childhood, hon."

"Oh," Elizabeth said quietly. "By the look on your face, I can tell it wasn't good."

"It was awful!" Peter admitted. "No child should ever have to go through even a tenth of what he did, El. He deserved…..deserves better than that!"

Elizabeth put her book down and stood up. "I'm going to go make us some coffee and then you're going to tell me everything, okay? I'll be right back."

A few minutes later, she returned with two cups of coffee and a plate of coffee cake. Peter gratefully took the offered coffee, knowing that he would need it in order to retell everything he had learned that night. Taking a large sip, he gathered his strength and faced his wife, knowing that what he was about to tell her was going to break her heart into a million pieces.

* * *

Neal was completely spent, both emotionally and physically, by the time Peter left. He barely had the strength to roll over onto his side, but he eventually managed it. As he lay there in the dark, he went over in his head everything he had just told Peter. He really didn't mean to spill everything so easily, but for some reason, he couldn't stop himself from doing just that. Maybe it was because Peter didn't interrupt or make him explain everything. In fact, the man had hardly said anything, instead allowing Neal to tell the story, unencumbered by opinions or judgements.

Now, Neal worried what Peter must be thinking of him. He was hard to read on the best of days, but when he held his emotions in, like he had tonight, it was nearly impossible. Neal's only fear was that, after everything he had confessed, the man would pity him. He really didn't think he could handle pity from Peter.

He knew that he had dumped a lot of information and emotion on the poor man, and he figured that Peter was now doing the same thing to his wife. Neal didn't mind that Elizabeth knew some of his secrets, really. He had never met a more empathetic, compassionate woman in his life, but again, he didn't want her to pity him.

Neal took pride in being a man that could take care of himself, no matter the situation. He knew that he was clever and smart and cunning. He knew that he was charismatic and charming…compelling, even. But, he also knew that deep down, he was broken. He fought like hell to hide his brokenness from everyone, but knew that even though it was buried deep, it could rise to the surface at the drop of a hat. In fact, it had nearly resurfaced quite recently, when he had found himself face to face with Silas Dmitri again. It had taken everything he had to keep it buried, to hide the fact that he was so close to breaking down, to losing himself again.

He also knew with certainty that one pity-filled look from Peter or Elizabeth would be enough to unbury his brokenness and bare it for all to see.

* * *

Author's note: Well, I think I should get kudos for the quick update, don't you? Just kidding. I just love it when my schedule allows me to write. I think you all know that I would write every day, if I could. Unfortunately, life demands to be lived. And not always on my terms.

I know this chapter was pretty heavy in the emotions department and I promise that the next one will be a little more light-hearted. Neal will finally be leaving the hospital and will be driving Peter crazy in no time at all. There is nothing I love to write more than the witty banter between our two favorite guys.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. Your reviews are like sustenance to me, just so you know. I truly enjoy reading what you all like and dislike about the chapter/story.


	17. I'll Be By Your Side

What He Does Best

Chapter 17

* * *

Three days later, Neal was sitting up on the edge of the bed, being poked and prodded by the good Dr. Jackson, when Peter showed up. He could tell by the look on his partner's face that the man was annoyed about something, which seemed to be the norm lately.

Peter knew that Neal was more than likely going stir crazy. The kid wasn't used to having his activity limited for so long, so he figured that the man was fairly close to exploding. Up until this point, the most activity he was allowed was during his therapy sessions or with his short trips to the bathroom. _Yes, an idle Neal Caffrey was definitely a terrifying thing._

"Good morning, Dr. Jackson, Neal," Peter said brightly as he walked through the door.

Dr. Jackson greeted him with a cheery "Hello" while Neal just glared at him. Peter thought that it looked to be another long day.

"How's our patient, Dr. Jackson?" he asked.

"He's doing well, Agent Burke. In fact, I think today might be a good day for him to be released."

"Really?!" Neal burst out. "This isn't a trick, is it? Payback for the food coloring on the dressing thing? Please tell me you're not joking."

"I'm not joking, Neal," Dr. Jackson replied. "And just so you know, you're not the first one to pull that trick on me."

"Seriously? You fell for that twice?" Neal laughed.

"The only reason I fell for it this time was because whoever put the food coloring on the dressing made it look too real. I really thought your incision had opened and you were bleeding out. Nice acting, by the way."

Peter couldn't help but roll his eyes when he saw how pleased Neal looked with himself. He was a little sad that he had missed that performance, knowing how good Neal Caffrey was at pulling a con. Poor Dr. Jackson really didn't have a chance against the young man.

"Anyway," Dr. Jackson continued, "if I send you home, there are several restrictions I expect you to follow."

"I love restrictions," Neal said with a grin that quickly turned to a glare when he heard a very uncivilized snort come from Peter's direction.

Dr. Jackson laughed loudly. "Somehow, I get the idea that you and restrictions are like oil and water, Neal."

Both Peter and Dr. Jackson laughed at the petulant pout Neal now adopted.

"What kind of restrictions are we talking about?" Peter finally asked.

"Well, he will definitely need to take it easy for a few weeks. That means limit your activity, Neal. No lifting¸ no pushing or pulling, and get lots of rest. Also, no stairs on your own for a while. You need to get your strength back before attempting that."

Peter noticed the look that crossed Neal's face. He knew he was wondering just how he was going to get up to his apartment, but that question was answered a second later.

"And you'll need someone to keep an eye on you for a while. I don't want you left alone to your own devices, Neal, because I know you'll push the limits too much. Do you have someone to stay with you?"

Before Neal could answer, Peter broke in. "He'll stay with us, Dr. Jackson. Between Elizabeth and I, we can make sure he does what he's told."

Neal looked up at Peter in surprise. "You don't have to do that, Peter. I can take care of myself."

"No, you can't, Neal," Dr. Jackson answered. "Haven't you listened to a word I just said?"

"Welcome to my world," Peter grumbled sympathetically.

"Mozzie can help," Neal offered. He knew that Mozzie would allow him to do pretty much whatever he wanted as long as the wine supply was good.

Peter just laughed at Neal's words. "Ha!" he said. "That's not going to happen."

"Peter, I'm a grown man. I think I can decide who I want to take care of me." Neal winced at his words as soon as they left his mouth. _If he was a grown man, why did he even need someone to take care of him in the first place?_

"Yes, Neal, you _are_ a grown man, but your history dictates that you don't always make grownup decisions, especially when it comes to your well-being. Therefore, you'll be coming home with me."

"But, I can't," Neal whined. "You have stairs and Dr. Jackson said no stairs, remember?" He looked pretty proud of himself for that argument.

"Dr. Jackson, there are exactly nine steps leading up to our front door and fourteen steps to the guest room and bathroom. Elizabeth and I will be there to help Neal up and down the stairs. If he goes home, he will have to climb four sets of stairs just to get to his apartment."

"Well, it sounds like he needs to go home with you, then, Peter," the doctor said matter-of-factly. Turning back to Neal, he continued. "I expect you to drink lots of fluids, eat three meals a day, and get a good night's sleep every night. You'll find that you'll be fairly weak for quite a while, Neal, so listen to your body. When you're tired, you need to rest. Don't push yourself too much. Take your medicine as prescribed. You'll have physical and occupational therapy three times a week and I'll expect to see you in my office in a week for follow-up, okay?"

"When can I go back to work?" Neal asked, even though he was dreading the answer.

"Neal, you've just been shot two separate times, you lost a lot of blood, you have several broken and bruised ribs, as well as multiple other injuries. You won't be going back to work for quite a while."

By the look on Neal's face, Peter could tell that it was going to be a very long and difficult while.

"So, when can I leave?"

"How about this afternoon after your therapy sessions? Will that work for you, Peter?"

"I'll be back around three o'clock," Peter agreed.

* * *

Peter returned that afternoon to find Neal surrounded by hospital staff. He could hear Neal's slightly weakened, but otherwise normal, charming laugh coming from the center of the group of people. Unsurprisingly, most of the group was comprised of women, but Peter noticed a few men, as well.

"What's going on in here?" his voice boomed as he entered the room.

"Hey, Peter," Neal looked up at him with a smile. "Welcome to the party!"

"Party?"

"Everyone decided to throw me a 'Going Away' party," he explained with a toothy grin.

"Of course, they did," Peter grumbled. He didn't remember the staff ever throwing him a party when he was discharged from the hospital.

"Oh, come on, Grumpy Pants….." Neal teased. "It's not my fault that I'm everyone's favorite patient."

"Did you just call me Grumpy Pants?" Peter asked indignantly.

"Well, if the shoe fits," Neal answered. "Or maybe I should say if the pants fit…"

"Maybe you shouldn't say anything at all, kid."

Neal threw him a cheeky grin before turning back to his party. By the time it was over, he had a stack of cards sitting in front of him, and Peter watched as he started putting the phone numbers of all of the nurses into the new phone Mozzie had brought him.

As he watched him, he looked for signs of how the young man was really feeling, knowing that Neal would be too evasive with the truth, otherwise. He couldn't help but notice how pale the young man still was and how his breathing seemed a little more rapid and shallow than normal. He also noticed a few facial grimaces whenever he moved too fast. Adding to that the faint sheen of sweat on his skin and the faint tremors in his hands made Peter wonder if they weren't pushing to fast by letting him leave the hospital. _What if it was too early? What if Neal wasn't doing as good as the doctor thought he was?_

Peter knew that he was nervous about taking Neal out of the hospital, but he would just have to trust that Dr. Jackson knew what he was doing. The young doctor hadn't steered them wrong so far. As Peter continued to watch Neal type in number after number into his phone, the door opened to reveal Dr. Jackson.

"So, are you ready to get out of here, Neal?" he asked with a smile.

"I was ready days ago, Doc," Neal answered.

"Okay, then. One of the nurses will be by in a few minutes to take out your IVs and go over a bit more paperwork. Peter, I wrote out a few prescriptions that will need to be filled today and we'll need your signature on some of the paperwork since you're responsible for Neal. Other than that, we're all done. I'll see you in a week, Neal."

After thanking Dr. Jackson for everything, Neal waited patiently for his nurse to come in. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he really wished that he could lie down and take a nap. It had been a long day, especially with the impromptu farewell party.

Peter could tell that Neal was exhausted and was just about to suggest a quick nap when the door opened. Instead, they spent the next twenty minutes going through all of the discharge instructions again and signing tons of paperwork. By the time Grace had taken the IVs out and Neal had gotten dressed, it was almost five o'clock.

Neal balked at the idea of being wheeled out in a wheelchair, but Peter could tell that his aversion to the idea was merely an act of vanity and a cover-up of how he was really feeling. He had watched as the young man grew short of breath and visibly weaker with the simple act of walking into the bathroom and getting dressed.

After a multitude of "Goodbye, Neal," "Take care, Neal," and "Call me, Neal," comments, Peter suddenly found himself outside of the hospital, trying to wrestle Neal into his car. Even though the young man had lost weight since he had been in the hospital, he was still heavier than he looked. After several minutes, Neal was settled in the front seat with the seatbelt carefully buckled. Peter climbed into the driver's seat and glanced over at his partner. The fine sheen of sweat and increased paleness in the young man's face did nothing to mitigate his nervousness at taking Neal out of the hospital.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked. "Is the seatbelt hurting you?"

Neal grimaced as he shifted in the seat, trying to find a more comfortable spot. "I'm fine, Peter," he answered. "Let's just go."

Peter started the engine and carefully eased his way out of the patient loading zone. As he drove, he paid particular attention to how fast he was going and to how smoothly he was taking turns. Every few seconds, he glanced over at Neal, who now had his head resting on the headrest and his eyes closed. He could see the tension in Neal's face and noticed how his hands were both clenched tightly in his lap, so he slowed down even more.

After the fourth car honked at him for the way he was driving, Neal opened his eyes and laughed. "You're driving like a little old lady, Peter."

"No, I'm not. I'm just driving as carefully as I can. I don't want to cause you any undue pain."

"While I truly appreciate that you're not driving like you usually do, I'm not going to break if you go over 50 miles per hour. At this rate, we won't get home until midnight."

Peter glared at the young man sitting next to him, but when another car passed him with the driver honking and yelling what looked like an obscenity at him, he sped up a bit. He continued to keep a close eye on Neal, but when he didn't see any additional signs of discomfort from the young man, he turned his concentration back to getting them both home.

* * *

By the time they arrived home, Neal was sound asleep. Peter had even stopped by the pharmacy that he and Elizabeth usually used without waking him up. Getting out of the car, he quickly ran the medications into the house, alerting Elizabeth that they were home, before heading back out to wake Neal up.

Neal woke up with a start and it took him several seconds to refocus his mind on where he was and what he was doing. Once he remembered, he accepted Peter's hand as he tried to extricate himself from the front seat. Neal was thankful that the older man had a firm grip on his arm, because the minute he stood up, his legs buckled underneath him. Peter grabbed him with both hands, stabilizing him until he could get his legs to do what he wanted them to do. Once he was ready, he stepped towards the townhouse, leaning heavily on Peter for support.

After negotiating the steps that led up into the house, Neal was completely exhausted. He didn't argue as Peter practically carried him over to the sofa, laying him down lengthwise. Nor did he argue when Elizabeth took off his shoes and covered him with a soft blanket.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" Elizabeth asked in her soft voice.

"I'm okay, Elizabeth," he answered, causing her to frown. It was obvious that he was anything but okay.

"Neal George Caffrey, when I ask you how you're feeling, I expect the truth. Don't you dare try to con me, young man!"

"Sorry, Elizabeth," Neal said awkwardly. _How was it that Elizabeth always made him feel like a naughty child when she used that tone with him? _

"Apology accepted, sweetie. Now please answer my question."

"I'm a little sore and exhausted, honestly," Neal answered.

Elizabeth tucked the blanket in around him, before grabbing the pharmacy bag off of the table. A few minutes later, she came back into the living room with a tray and sat it down on the coffee table.

"Here you go, Neal. I brought you some soup and some water to take with your pills."

Neal frowned at that. "I'm not hungry, Elizabeth."

"Well, regardless of whether you're hungry or not, you need to eat something when you take your pills," she answered.

"I don't want any pills, either," Neal grumbled.

"It's not a matter of wanting the pills, Neal," Elizabeth argued. "It's a matter of needing them. Dr. Jackson said it was important that you finish these antibiotics and that you take the pain medication routinely for a while."

"I hate the way they make me feel," Neal whined. "My head gets all out of focus."

Elizabeth picked up the bowl of soup and lifted up a spoonful. "Open up, sweetie."

"You're going to feed me?" Neal asked incredulously. "Elizabeth, I'm a grown man!"

"You keep using that argument, Neal, but you don't do anything to substantiate it. In fact, you're acting like an impudent child."

Neal turned to Peter, pleading with him to intervene. "Peter, do something!" he whined.

"Fine," Peter said, causing Neal to look at him hopefully and Elizabeth to glare at him. With a mischievous grin on his face, he turned to his wife. "Should I make the choo-choo train sounds as you feed him, El?"

Very funny, Peter," Neal moaned.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, a sulking Neal was settled deep into the sofa and just about to fall asleep. Much to his chagrin, Elizabeth had literally spoon fed him the soup and Peter had, unfortunately, made train noises with each bite. Eventually, Elizabeth made her husband stop with the sound effects, sensing that Neal was getting more and more annoyed.

After taking multiple spoonfulls from Elizabeth, Neal agreed to finish the soup on his own. Elizabeth and Peter sat back and watched him, making sure that he ate every bite and then took his medication. After drinking a glass of water and half a glass of juice, Neal had been completely drained.

"Why don't you take a little nap, Neal," Elizabeth suggested. "When you wake up, Peter can help you up to your room."

Neal's eyes widened at the way Elizabeth had called the guest room his room, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he settled even further into the sofa as a feeling of warmth enveloped him.

* * *

The trip up to the guest room was almost too much for Neal. He again had to lean heavily on Peter as they were climbing the stairs and by the time they made it, Neal was feeling rather dizzy. Peter helped him into the bathroom, where Elizabeth had laid out everything he needed to get ready for bed. He weakly brushed his teeth and washed his face, before noticing the clothing that she had laid out on the counter. He realized that they were Peter's clothes and a small smile crossed his face. Although, they were nowhere near as nice as his normal pajamas, the soft, cottony sweats and well-worn t-shirt were very comfortable.

Upon opening the door, he found himself face to face with a surprised Peter. "Elizabeth set these out for me to wear," Neal explained. "I hope you don't mind."

Peter laughed at the sight of his criminal consultant in a pair of old sweats and a t-shirt that read "Property of the FBI" on the front. "Nope, not at all," he said. "In fact, I think that t-shirt was made just for you."

Neal looked down at the t-shirt, reading it for the first time. "Very funny," he growled, although Peter could hear the levity in his voice. "Do you think she did that on purpose?" he asked.

"I've never known El to do anything without a purpose," Peter answered truthfully. "She's pretty smart that way."

Peter helped Neal to the guestroom where Elizabeth was waiting for them. Neal had stayed in the room a few times, so he immediately noticed that she had rearranged the furniture and did some redecorating. "Wow, Elizabeth, it looks great in here."

"Thank you, Neal. When Peter told me you were going to stay with us for a while, I thought I would make the room more suitable for you. I turned the bed around, so you can see out the window. And I figured that blue and gray were much more suitable colors for you."

Neal looked a little overwhelmed at the thought that she would redecorate the room just for him. "You really didn't have to do that," he said softly. "It was great before."

"I know I didn't have to, Neal, but I wanted to. Besides, it gave me a reason to get rid of that awful orange comforter that Peter insisted on keeping."

"What do you mean by "get rid of?" Peter asked.

"Don't worry, hon. I just put it down in the basement. Where it belongs."

Neal laughed at the look on Peter's face. "It really was an awful shade of orange, Peter."

"No one asked your opinion, kid," Peter snarled.

Neal threw up his hands in surrender. "Well, I do know a thing or two about fashion, but I'm sure that there is some designer out there that has the same taste in colors as you do."

"Thank you," Peter answered. "See, El? Neal thinks my taste in colors isn't that bad."

"Hey, I didn't say that," Neal argued. "What I was trying to say was that there's probably a designer like that out there, but his tastes are obviously getting in the way of him making something of himself."

"Says the man who wears hats all the time," Peter mumbled.

"I happen to like Neal's hats very much," Elizabeth offered.

"Thank you, Elizabeth," Neal said. "At least someone in the Burke family recognizes style and class when they see it."

"Go to bed, Neal!" Peter growled.

Elizabeth pulled back the blankets and waited patiently as Neal slowly climbed into bed. Once he was settled, she pulled the blankets up to his chin, making sure to tuck them in tightly around him. Before she stood back up, she laid a soft kiss on his forehead and gently pushed back his hair.

"Okay, sweetie, I left a glass of water on your table there, in case you need it. Oh, and I have something else for you, too." Elizabeth stepped over to the closet and grabbed something. Coming back over to the bed, she placed what looked like a baby monitor on the table next to the water. "There you go, Neal. If you need anything at all during the night, just call out, okay? Peter and I will be able to hear you on our monitor."

Peter nearly laughed at the look on his partner's face, but held it in.

Neal looked up at Elizabeth like she had gone crazy. "Is that a baby monitor?" he asked. "Really? I don't think that's necessary, Elizabeth. I'll be fine by myself."

"Just in case, sweetie," she said as she bent down to kiss him on the forehead once more. "If you need anything….."

Elizabeth left the room, leaving Peter and Neal to stare after her.

"Peter…." Neal started, only to be interrupted immediately.

"Just go with it, Neal. It's much easier that way."

After a quick goodnight, Peter turned and left the room, leaving Neal to ponder just what he had gotten himself into.

* * *

Peter and Elizabeth lay curled up in each other's arms, but neither one of them slept. Every few minutes, Elizabeth thought she heard Neal say something over the baby monitor, but Peter assured her that the young man was asleep.

Peter couldn't seem to stop thinking about how much his wife was surprising him. He knew that she cared a lot for Neal, but up until these recent events, he didn't realize how maternal she was towards the younger man. Watching her take care of Neal opened his eyes to the type of mother she would have been, if they had had children. In his opinion, she would have been the best mother this world had ever seen. She was loving and nurturing, patient and kind. But, she was also tough and demanding, with clear and appropriate expectations. Any child lucky enough to have her as a mother would grow up knowing exactly what was expected of him or her. Sadly, he realized that she was exactly the type of mother that Neal needed and deserved when he was a child.

Instead, he grew up with a mother that cared more for herself than him. He had been allowed to do pretty much whatever he wanted from a young age, but was then expected to understand the asinine strictures placed on him by a domineering, heavy-handed tyrant. No wonder the kid made bad choices. No wonder he still acted like a lost little boy with no impulse control or self-constraint. He had grown up in an emotionally and physically unstable environment. Peter wished that he had the power to go back in time and change that. He knew, of course, that he couldn't, but he thought that maybe it wasn't too late to start giving Neal the structure he needed and craved. Vowing to himself that he would do whatever he could to ensure that Neal had a stable environment to recover in, he rolled over and fell asleep, his loud snores blending in with Elizabeth's gentle breathing.

* * *

Peter woke up to the sound of a loud crash. Jumping out of bed, he looked wildly around him, trying to get his bearings. Seconds later, he realized that Elizabeth was out of bed, too, and was on her way out the door.

_Neal!_ Suddenly remembering that his severely injured and weakened partner was sleeping in a room down the hall, he took off following his wife. They entered the room at the same time, dismayed to find Neal sprawled out on the floor next to the window.

"Neal!" Elizabeth cried. "What happened?"

Neal looked up at the two of them with a decidedly guilty look on his face. "Hey, Elizabeth. Hey, Peter. What are you doing up at this hour?"

Not for the first time, and surely not for the last, Peter felt like throttling the boy.

* * *

Author's note: Uh oh, I think Peter's bitten off a little more than he can chew with Neal as a houseguest. What do you all think? If you were betting people, who would you put your money on for losing it first? Peter? Elizabeth? Or Neal?

It's so nice to have Neal out of the hospital, finally, isn't it? Although, I definitely love the Neal whump, I love it even more when he's healthy enough to give Peter a run for his money. I don't know about you, but I think he's up to the task. At least, for now.

Thanks for reading! I would love to hear your thoughts and likes/dislikes. Take care!


	18. Worry Is My Only Friend

What He Does Best

Chapter 18

* * *

Elizabeth rushed over to where Neal was laying, concerned that he might have hurt himself. Peter, on the other hand, was frustrated that the young man once again refused to ask for help.

"What the hell were you doing, Neal?" he yelled.

"Peter!" El admonished before turning back to Neal. "Are you okay, Neal? Did you hurt yourself?"

"I'm fine, Elizabeth." Neal tried to appear convincing, but he was sure that the tremor in his voice wouldn't go unnoticed.

"What were you doing, Neal?" Peter asked as he bent down to help Neal off the floor.

"I was just going to open the window a little," Neal admitted. "I was feeling a little hot."

Elizabeth quickly placed her hand on his forehead, checking to see if he was running a fever. Fortunately, he felt fine. Stepping back, she watched as Peter helped Neal back into the bed, before checking the young man out more thoroughly. Sliding up his t-shirt, which elicited a sudden shocked yelp from Neal, complaining that her hands were too cold, she inspected his abdominal incision. Fortunately, again, it looked fine.

"Neal, what did we tell you before we went to bed?" she chided. "You were supposed to call if you needed help."

"I didn't think I needed help," Neal countered. "The window is only six feet away, Elizabeth."

Peter stepped closer to the bed and Neal couldn't help but notice how, in the position he was currently in, the man towered over him. "Neal, you just got out of the hospital today and it's been a _really_ long day. You're in no position to be getting out of bed all by yourself."

"I'm not an invalid, Peter," Neal retorted.

"We know that, but you're still recovering from some serious injuries, kid. You're going to have to take it easy for a while."

Neal knew that both Peter and Elizabeth were just worried about him, but he wasn't used to having people coddle him so much. He should have been used to Peter's overprotective nature, but he wasn't. However, knowing that there was truth in what they were saying, he had no choice but to agree.

"Fine," he said. "I get it! I'll ask for help next time."

"Good," Peter answered. "I didn't want to have to break out my handcuffs."

"Go ahead and break them out, Peter. I'm pretty sure that my injuries won't preclude me from getting out of them as quick as I usually do."

"Okay, boys," Elizabeth interrupted before Peter got any ideas. "I think we should all try to get a little more sleep. Peter, open the window for Neal. Neal, call the next time you need something, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Neal said with a grin. "Goodnight, Elizabeth."

* * *

The next morning, Neal waited patiently in his bed until Peter and Elizabeth woke up. Luckily, Elizabeth had placed a few art history books on his bedside table, so he spent the next hour looking through them. Just as he was seriously thinking of using the monitor to wake Peter up, he heard movement in the hall. A few seconds later, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," he called out.

When the door opened, Peter poked his head in the room. "Hey, partner, how long have you been awake?"

"Not long," Neal lied before sheepishly asking Peter to help him into the bathroom.

"Sure thing," Peter said. "Elizabeth just put some fresh towels and clothes in there for you."

Peter helped him to the bathroom. "I'll grab a shower myself, so when you're done, we can go downstairs together, okay?"

"Thanks," Neal answered. "I won't take too long."

Once he was in the bathroom, he took care of business as quickly as he could. He stayed in the shower a little longer than usual, though, as he felt some of his tension wash away under the hot water. After he dried off, he looked at the clothes Elizabeth had laid out for him, not surprised to see another pair of sweats and a fairly new looking t-shirt. He also noticed a pair of boxers in the stack of clothes, but decided that there was no way he was going to wear Peter's underwear. _He had to draw the line somewhere, right?_

He quickly put the sweats on and then unfolded the t-shirt, laughing when he saw what was on the front. The shirt had the normal FBI logo in the center, but underneath it read Female Body Inspector. Neal wondered where the shirt had come from and whether it had anything to do with him teasing Peter about his "flirting" with Melissa Calloway from the Hearts Wide Open charity.

Once he was dressed, he opened the door to find Peter waiting just outside.

"Sorry, Peter. I didn't mean to take so long. The shower just felt great."

Peter looked at the shirt, looked at Neal, and decided that ignoring the shirt was his best option. "It's okay. Let's head downstairs. It smells like El's getting breakfast ready."

Peter helped Neal down the stairs and Neal was surprised that it wasn't quite as hard as he thought it would be. In fact, his legs were feeling a little stronger than the day before. Once he was settled at the table, Peter went to help Elizabeth with the dishes and food. Neal noticed that there was already a glass of orange juice sitting next to the medication he was due to take. Taking several swigs of the juice, he popped the pills into his mouth, grimacing at the after-taste of the antibiotic.

Peter and Elizabeth joined him a few minutes later, both of their arms laden with breakfast foods. Neal was amazed at the assortment of food Elizabeth had cooked up while he and Peter were taking their showers. He was also amazed that it looked like she had made all of his favorites.

"Are those apricot crepes?"

Elizabeth laughed at the wide-eyed look he was giving her.

"Yes," Elizabeth answered. "I remembered you saying how much you loved those. And I think you said you loved the Amaretto brioche they served at the Palazzo Sasso, right? I made that for you, too."

"Wow, Elizabeth, you didn't have to do all of that. I would have been satisfied just digging into Peter's sugary cereal."

"No, you wouldn't have," Elizabeth laughed. "I know you hate that stuff."

Neal started to make up a lie, but just laughed instead. "You're right! I have no idea how he can eat that stuff!"

"He eats deviled ham, remember?" Elizabeth laughed again. "I don't think he has a very discerning palate."

"I think that's likely the understatement of the year."

"Hey," Peter interrupted. "I'm sitting right here, you know."

Neal and Elizabeth both laughed this time, causing Peter to pout. "If I had known the two of you were going to gang up on me, I wouldn't have insisted that Neal stay with us," he grumbled.

Neal immediately looked horrified at Peter's words. "You're right, Peter. I'm being incredibly rude and I'm sorry. I'll leave if you want me to."

Now, it was Peter's turn to look horrified. "I was joking, Neal. I didn't mean to make you feel guilty."

"Well, you did, Peter. I think maybe I should just go back to my place."

"No!" Peter yelled as he looked at his wife for help. Elizabeth gave him a look that told him he was on his own. "I'm sorry, kid. I really want you to stay, so what can I do to make you feel welcomed here?"

"Well," Neal answered, "if you really want me to feel welcomed maybe you could let me have control of the remote tonight. There's a really good documentary on the history of Italian art airing at eight o'clock and I don't want to miss it."

Elizabeth burst out laughing at the look on Peter's face when he realized that Neal had been playing him all along. Neal just looked immensely satisfied with himself for leading Peter right into his trap. Peter, on the other hand, looked completely flustered.

"Just for that, I'm making you sit through the FBI policy and procedure videos that each new agent has to watch. There are four of them total and each one is three hours long."

Now it was Neal's turn to look at Elizabeth for help, but he could tell he was going to get any, either.

"Leave me out of this," she said as she started loading Neal's plate up with food. "Now, eat up, Neal. It sounds like you're going to have to fortify yourself for tonight."

Peter and Elizabeth both laughed at the petulant look on the young man's face as he started eating.

* * *

Once breakfast was over, Peter helped Neal get settled on the couch before leaving for the office. His plan was to return at lunchtime to help Neal up to the bathroom, if needed. Elizabeth planned on working on a few things at her desk, so she made sure that Neal had the television remote, the morning newspaper, a few books, and a glass of water close by.

The morning went by fairly quickly once Neal found something interesting to watch on television. An hour into a documentary on the Nazi regime, he had fallen asleep. Elizabeth walked into the living room to find Neal sound asleep with Satchmo sitting at his side, his head resting on Neal's leg. She quickly grabbed her phone and took several pictures of Neal, noticing how young and vulnerable he looked when he was asleep. Again, she wondered if he was truly as old as he claimed to be. Now that they knew the story of his childhood, it wouldn't be hard to check out. There would definitely be official documentation as to how old he was when his family entered WitSec.

Peter came home at lunchtime, helped Neal up to the bathroom and back down again, and ate a quick lunch as he filled Neal in on their newest case. Both he and Elizabeth noticed the look of desperate yearning and jealousy on the young man's faceat the idea of working on a new case. _ It was definitely going to be interesting keeping Neal from becoming too bored while he recovered._

"So, this new case is proving to be a challenge," Peter explained. "The bonds in question supposedly date back to early 1900. They popped up on our radar when an older woman tried to cash them in at Midtown Mutual yesterday. She insists that they've been in her family for over eighty years, but the validity of that claim is being questioned."

"How much are we talking about?" Neal asked.

"Well over ten million dollars."

"What makes you think they aren't valid?" Neal asked.

"Anytime someone tries to cash in bonds that are that old, a red flag is thrown up. Bonds from that time frame are well beyond their maturity date, so most have been cashed in. Ones that haven't been cashed in are usually lost. To have someone show up with such an impressive collection after so many years is highly unusual."

"But, it could happen," Neal said.

"It could, but it's definitely worth checking out, don't you think?" Peter grabbed his briefcase and pulled out a sealed folder. "I happen to have one right here. Do you want to check it out?"

The smile on Neal's face said it all. "Of course, I want to check it out," he exclaimed.

Peter watched as Neal carefully opened the folder. He suddenly had a Déjà vu moment, remembering how eagerly Neal looked over the Dutchman's forged bond. If anyone could tell if the bond was a forgery, it was the young man sitting at his table.

* * *

Neal slowly slid the bond out of the folder with a feeling of dread settling within him. He suddenly realized that the fact that Silas Dmitri was in New York at the same time that these bonds surfaced could not be a coincidence. The two events certainly had to be related.

Neal could feel his heart pounding and it was so loud in his ears that he worried that Peter and Elizabeth could hear it, too. He desperately tried to keep his hands from trembling, but he wasn't sure that he was successful. Before he had the bond out of the folder, he had hoped with everything within him that it would be a different bond. Once it was completely out of the folder, he knew immediately that it was his.

Everything began to make sense to him in that moment. He suddenly remembered waking up in that small dark room after Dmitri had kidnapped him, hearing the faint humming of machinery somewhere beyond his door. He realized now that the sound could only have been the sound of a printing press, which meant that Silas Dmitri was more than likely responsible for the resurgence of the bonds.

Nevertheless, Dmitri also understood the finer parts of forgery. He knew that the bonds would have to be authenticated and that something so recently printed would never pass the authentication process. Neal figured that the recently resurfaced bonds were the ones that he had forged when he was seventeen. He knew that he had done an excellent job with them, much like the Dutchman had done with his. Dmitri had used his resources to find the appropriate paper and ink and "Danny" had worked day and night to perfect the forgery.

That had been a dark time for him. His life had fallen apart after the bank incident and he wanted nothing else to do with helping Dmitri. Unfortunately, Dmitri knew exactly how to compel a young Danny to do what he wanted. He had started by threatening Tessa, but Danny had eventually learned that the man wouldn't really hurt his mother. Believe it or not, Silas Dmitri truly loved the woman.

The same couldn't be said for Ellen, though. In fact, Dmitri and Ellen despised each other completely. They barely tolerated each other for the sake of Tessa and Danny, so when Dmitri started threatening to harm Ellen, Danny knew that he had no choice, but to do what Dmitri wanted.

Now, Neal was staring at the product of that particular choice and he was amazed at the quality of work he had managed at such a young age and under such duress. He knew that even though the bond was amazing, though, it wouldn't stand up to the intense scrutiny the FBI would place it under. The tools they had at their disposal were too great.

With that realization, Neal had no idea what to do. He knew that Peter was waiting patiently for him to give his opinion, but he suddenly felt like his throat was closing off. Along with that feeling, his mouth grew incredibly dry and he suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe. Trying to hide these things from Peter, Neal started coughing. What started out as a diversionary cough, though, ended up being an all-encompassing, chest burning, nausea inducing coughing session that left him breathless.

"Neal!" Elizabeth yelled as she jumped out of her chair and ran to the table. "Neal, are you okay?"

Neal couldn't catch his breath enough to answer her, so he just focused on his breathing. Elizabeth was gently rubbing his back, encouraging him to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth. _In, out. In, out. In, out._ Peter watched in shock as his partner continued to gasp for air, not knowing what to do to help him and feeling completely helpless.

Eventually, to everyone's relief, Neal started breathing normally. His face was flushed from the harsh coughing, but there was an underlying paleness to it that worried Elizabeth. She also noticed the way his hands were shaking and the fact that his eyes were watering.

"Sweetie, why don't you lay back down on the sofa? I'll bring you some tea and a cool cloth for your head, okay?"

Neal wasn't about to argue with her, because he wanted desperately to get away from Peter and the forged bond. He was relieved to see Peter pick the bond up, put it back into the folder, and place it back in his briefcase. Once the evidence of his transgression was out of sight, Neal felt himself relax a little. Minutes later, he was settled on the sofa again and, wanting to avoid Peter's gaze, he closed his eyes.

* * *

Neal woke up at about four o'clock, surprised that he had slept so long. Once he was fully awake, the events of the afternoon came flooding back to him and he felt a familiar sense of desperation envelop him. He was relieved to see that he was alone at the moment, leaving him time to gather his thoughts and come up with some sort of a plan.

However, coming up with a plan was harder than he thought. Other than just outright telling Peter that the forged bond was of his own doing, he had no other idea of how to get himself out of the situation he was in. Deep down, he knew that he should trust Peter, but he could never really think straight when Dmitri was involved. Silas Dmitri had a way of shaking Neal's confidence to the core.

As he lay on the couch, he tried to figure out just what his step-father's plan was. _Who was the woman that showed up with the bonds and what did she have to do with anything? What exactly did Dmitri want with him if the man already had the bonds? And how did he find the bonds anyway?_

Neal remembered the events leading up to his leaving home so clearly. Dmitri had been using him for years in scheme after scheme after scheme. Danny had become proficient at several different skill sets that proved useful in many ways, so Dmitri always had a role for him, whether it was forging something, breaking in somewhere, or driving the get-away car.

Once Danny had finished the bond forgery, he told Dmitri that he was done, that he wasn't helping the man anymore. That, of course, didn't go over well at all with the man and Neal remembered the severe beating Dmitri had handed out at his rebellion.

A few days before Danny turned eighteen, he overheard Dmitri talking with one of his men. They were planning another con, because they had decided that it was too risky to try to cash in the bonds so soon. Danny had listened as they talked about waiting at least five years before attempting such a bold move. He also listened as Dmitri told Richard that the bonds were safely locked up out in his workshop.

It didn't take Danny long to find Dmitri's hiding place and it took him even less time to open the lock box they were stored in. He had originally planned on destroying them, but before he could carry through with his plan, he heard Dmitri walking towards the shop. Needing to act as quickly as he could, Danny had shoved the bonds into a hole in the drywall that was behind the door, before scurrying out the back door of the shop. Before he left, St. Louis, he had patched up the hole, hoping that the bonds wouldn't ever be found.

Neal had thought about going back to that old house in St. Louis to see if the bonds were still there, but he couldn't ever bring himself to do it. Going back to St. Louis, with all the memories of his mother, Ellen, Dmitri, and everything else, was the last thing he ever wanted to do. Now, though, he wished that he had. _If he had gone back for those bonds, none of the current events would have happened. He should have made sure that Dmitri never found them!_

* * *

Several days later, Neal was finally strong enough to walk up and down the stairs by himself. Peter and Elizabeth still insisted that he take it easy, though, and Neal often found himself being scolded by one of them for taxing himself too much.

June and Mozzie were frequent visitors at the Burke's house, checking up on Neal and keeping him company as often as they could. Unbeknownst to him, Elizabeth had arranged it so that the young man would never be left alone. She obviously didn't trust him to follow the doctor's restrictions on his own.

One afternoon, Elizabeth's distrust was proven to be warranted. She had planned on spending the afternoon at home, keeping Neal company and out of trouble, but after receiving a frantic call from her assistant, she had to go in to her office. She called June to see if she could come over, but June had gone out of town to see a friend. Her attempts to call Mozzie were unanswered, as well. By this time, Neal was completely irritated that Elizabeth was so reluctant to leave him alone.

"Elizabeth, I don't need a babysitter," he finally told her. "I've been taking care of myself for a very long time and I'm perfectly capable of staying out of trouble."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at that statement. "I_ know_ you're perfectly capable of staying out of trouble, Neal. I just also know that you usually don't. You can't blame me for worrying."

"I'll be fine," he answered. "Trust me."

Not really having any other option, Elizabeth finally agreed. "Fine, but I'm warning you, Neal. If you do anything stupid, you will not like the consequences. I told you in the hospital that you and I would be having a long talk the next time you were uncooperative. Do you remember that?"

Neal's face flushed with embarrassment as he nodded. He still didn't understand how Elizabeth could make him feel like such a naughty, disobedient child. "I'll be fine," he repeated as he gave her his most convincing smile. _At least, he hoped it was convincing_.

"Okay," Elizabeth said. "I shouldn't be gone more than an hour or two, at the most. Why don't you try to get some rest while I'm gone?"

Neal dutifully sat down on the sofa and covered himself with a blanket. Elizabeth gave him a quick kiss on the top of his head, followed by another look of warning, before grabbing her handbag and walking out the door. Once she was gone, Neal took a deep breath and relaxed into the sofa. He couldn't help but think that it was nice to actually be alone for a change. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate everything Peter and Elizabeth had done for him, because he really did. He just wasn't used to being constantly supervised.

Picking up the remote, he turned on the television and restlessly started flipping through the channels.

* * *

They say that the road to hell is paved with good intentions and Neal had never understood the meaning of that saying more clearly than he did at the current moment. He had had every intention in the world of behaving himself and staying out of trouble, but, of course, that's not what happened. He was, after all, Neal Caffrey. He often thought that his name must be synonymous with trouble.

After twenty minutes of mindless television watching, Neal decided that he needed to do something else, for the sake of his sanity. Unfortunately, there wasn't really much else to do. He didn't feel like reading at the moment, and his shoulder was aching too much for him to attempt to paint or sketch. Looking around the living room, he noticed Satchmo watching him closely.

"Hey, Satch, what do you say we take a little walk outside? I don't know about you, but I could use some fresh air."

At the sound of the word "walk" Satchmo jumped up and ran over to Neal. He looked just as excited as Neal at the prospect of going for a walk. Neal went over to the foyer closet and grabbed a lightweight jacket that belonged to Peter. He also found a pair of sturdy looking slippers on the floor of the closet and threw those on, as well. Looking down at himself, he was amazed that he would even contemplate walking outside dressed as he was. Obviously, he was really, truly desperate to get out of the house.

Once he had Satchmo's leash attached, he opened the door and stepped out onto the steps. It was a beautiful day and Neal took a few minutes to just breathe in the fresh air. Other than a few evenings out on the patio, Neal had been cooped up inside the house for almost a week. _That would explain why the Brooklyn air didn't seem as stale and toxic as usual._

Satchmo somehow seemed to understand that Neal still wasn't completely recovered, so he allowed the man to set the pace. They ambled slowly down the street at a pace that Neal found embarrassing, but necessary. By the time they arrived at the park, Neal was exhausted. What normally would have only been a five minute walk had taken more than twenty minutes, to his sheer frustration.

Neal sat down on one of the park benches and bent down to unleash Satchmo. The dog was normally really well behaved, so Neal was completely taken by surprise when Satchmo started barking and ran off the minute his leash was off.

"Satchmo!" Neal yelled. "Satch! Come on, boy!"

Satchmo looked like he had no intention of returning to Neal. Instead, the dog was wildly chasing after a chipmunk. Neal, who wasn't quite ready to get up off the bench, slowly stood up and attempted to follow the silly dog, wishing the whole time that he had just stayed in the house. Looking at his watch, his stomach did a quick flip when he realized that it had been over an hour since Elizabeth had left_. He needed to get back before she returned._

"Satchmo!" Neal yelled again, growing more and more frustrated. Fortunately, the chipmunk had finally scampered up a tree, so Satchmo had stopped running. Now, the silly dog was standing at the base of the tree, barking madly. Neal was just about to attach the leash to the dog's collar when the chipmunk scampered onto the branch of the next tree. Of course, Satchmo quickly ran over to the other tree, knocking Neal down to the ground in the process.

With the luck he was having, Neal wasn't surprised to see that he had landed in what looked like the only mud puddle in the whole park. Pulling himself to his feet, he tried to brush off the mud and dirt that now covered his sweatpants. Unfortunately, all that did was smear the dirt even more.

With a frustrated sigh, Neal yelled at Satchmo once more. This time, the dog dashed over to him with what could only be described as a guilty expression on his face. If Neal hadn't been so irritated, he would have laughed. Instead, he quickly reattached Satchmo's leash, as he scolded the poor dog relentlessly.

Looking down at his watch again, Neal said a quick prayer that they would make it home before Elizabeth. He pushed himself to pick up the pace on the way back home, so by the time he arrived, he was feeling rather short of breath and nauseous. He had been in such a hurry that he didn't notice Elizabeth's car parked a little ways down the street. Climbing the steps up to the door, he hastily said a prayer of thanks for making it home before Elizabeth. Unfortunately, his prayer was cut short when the front door was yanked open to reveal an extremely disapproving, angry Elizabeth Burke.

"Neal George Caffrey, get your butt in here this minute!"

* * *

Author's note: Uh oh! I guess this means that Elizabeth was the first one to lose it, right? Did any of you bet on that? I know I didn't, which is pretty funny since I'm the one writing the story.

I certainly wouldn't want to be in Neal's shoes at the moment. An irate Elizabeth can be a downright scary thing, in my opinion. I'm pretty sure she isn't going to be too impressed with Neal's excuse, so hopefully, Peter will make it home in time to save him, lol.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. You guys are awesome! Happy Mother's Day to all of the mom's out there. I hope you have a great day.


	19. That Was Then, This Is Now

What He Does Best

Chapter 19

* * *

If Neal wasn't feeling like he was about to pass out and lose his lunch all at the same time, he would have turned tail and ran at the sight before him. As it was, his knees weakened and his heart skipped a beat. Elizabeth Burke was angrier than he had ever imagined and he was terrified to face her.

Actually, if he were being honest, he wasn't exactly terrified of facing her, but the thought of it ranked right up there with going to the dentist and being in the surveillance van in popularity. He actually thought that he would rather face a pissed-off Hughes or Diana before facing Elizabeth in all her angry glory.

Knowing that he had nowhere to run to or the energy to even try, he looked up at Elizabeth and gave her his most angelic look. "Hey, Beth. When did you get home?"

Elizabeth stormed down the stairs and grabbed him by the ear. "Don't you _"Hey, Beth"_ me, Neal Caffrey! Where have you been and what have you been doing?! You're filthy and you look like you're about to pass out."

Before Neal could answer her, she started frog-marching him up the steps and into the house. Once they were through the door, she ordered him to take off his muddy shoes and sweats before going any further into the house. Neal balked at the demand, but quickly came to the conclusion that she wasn't going to take no for an answer. Before she could give him an ultimatum, he toed off the slippers and pulled the sweats off. Standing there in his boxer briefs, he tried to maintain some semblance of his cool persona in the face of Elizabeth's fury, but he just couldn't pull it off.

"Sit down," Elizabeth ordered as she pointed to the sofa. Neal walked over to the sofa and gently sat down while Elizabeth unleashed Satchmo. He pulled the blanket off the back of the sofa and covered his lower half with it, wanting to maintain at least a tad bit of modesty. He wasn't really sure why he was so embarrassed. Elizabeth had seen him in his swimming shorts a few times the summer before and his boxers really weren't that much different.

Once Satchmo was free from his leash, Elizabeth walked into the kitchen. Neal could hear her open up a drawer and then turn the water on. A minute later, she walked out of the kitchen with a wet dish towel and headed over to the sofa, where she handed the towel to him and told him to wash his hands and face.

Up until that point, Elizabeth's words had been short and to the point, with a hard edge to them that Neal had never heard before. He suddenly longed for the sweet Elizabeth to return. The Elizabeth that tucked him in every night and placed a kiss on his forehead. The Elizabeth that made him his favorite foods and brought home Art History books for him.

The Elizabeth he was faced with now was absolutely terrifying.

* * *

When Elizabeth had been called into work to deal with some emergency, she didn't know what to do. She hated having to leave Neal alone, but really had no choice in the matter. Her only option was to work as fast as she could, leaving him alone for the shortest amount of time possible. Peter was always telling her of the foolish and dangerous things Neal did, so she really didn't trust him to behave himself. Sometimes, she thought that he was just as impulsive and troublesome as a two year old.

After she had taken care of the minor emergency at work, she rushed home. All in all, she had been gone just a little over an hour and a half, and she felt pretty confident that Neal couldn't have gotten himself into trouble that quickly.

She opened the front door as softly as she could, not wanting to wake the young man up if he was sleeping. Stepping into the foyer, she immediately noticed how quiet it was in the house. The television was turned off and there was no sign of Neal or Satchmo on the lower level.

Thinking that maybe he had gone upstairs to rest, Elizabeth immediately went up to check. The door to Neal's room was closed, so she listened at the door for several seconds, before gently knocking. Not hearing an answer or any sounds coming from the bedroom, she knocked louder. When she still didn't hear anything, she pushed the door open, only to find that the room was empty.

Fear surged through her at the thought that something had happened to the young man she had grown to care so much about. She knew that Silas Dmitri was still unaccounted for, which only caused the panic she was feeling to build even higher. _What if he had found out where they lived? What if he had kidnapped Neal again?_

With fear in her heart, she turned and ran back downstairs to get her cell phone. Grabbing it out of her purse, she simultaneously called Neal's number and looked around the house to see if there were any signs of a struggle. She couldn't see any evidence that Neal had been taken by force, much to her relief. Unfortunately, as she was waiting for Neal to answer his phone, she realized that she could hear the phone ringing in the living room. After a few minutes of calling the phone and listening for the ring, she finally found it stuffed deep between the sofa cushions.

As she started to dial Peter's phone, she noticed that Satchmo's leash wasn't on the coat hook by the door where it usually stayed. Suddenly, her fear turned to anger as she realized that Neal must have taken Satchmo for a walk. _What was he thinking?! And why would he leave without his phone?!_

When her call went through to Peter's voicemail, she left a hasty message for him to call her back as soon as possible. She knew her husband would be furious with his partner when he found out that he had gone for a walk, alone and without his cell phone. Peter was always saying that Neal had absolutely no sense of self-preservation, and for once, she had to agree.

Yanking open the front door, Elizabeth was relieved to see a rather bedraggled Neal standing at the bottom of the steps. Without further ado, she found herself yelling angrily at Neal to get his butt into the house. Neal, of course, looked like he wanted to take off running, but Elizabeth knew he didn't have the strength to do it. Before she could say anything else, Neal spoke to her as if nothing was wrong and as if she didn't have good reason to be furious with him. It didn't slip her attention that he had called her "Beth" in what was a rather obvious attempt to endear himself to her. This, of course, made her even angrier, and seconds later she was marching down the steps, grabbing Neal by the ear, and then frog-marching him back up the steps.

Once they were inside, she ordered Neal to take off his shoes and sweats, not wanting him to track mud through her house. She thought at first that he was going to refuse to do what she said, but he obviously thought better of it. _He really was a smart young man. _

After he had done what she asked, she pointed him in the direction of the sofa and ordered him to sit down. Again, he did what he was told without any argument. After sitting on the sofa, she watched as he pulled a blanket over his lower half, obviously trying to protect his dignity. For some reason, Elizabeth couldn't keep from laughing at that. _Since when was Neal Caffrey modest?!_

* * *

Neal watched every move that Elizabeth made, trying to gauge her mood a little better. He obviously knew that she was angry with him, but he needed to know how cemented that anger was. He often prided himself on being good at reading people, but Elizabeth was proving to be nearly impossible to read. That, in itself, should have told him how angry she really was.

"What were you thinking, Neal?" she asked as she paced in front of him. "I was only gone for an hour and a half! All you had to do was sit back and relax until I got back!"

Neal looked up at her with his big blue eyes, giving her the best puppy dog look he could muster.

"Don't look at me that way, Neal! It's not going to work!"

"I'm sorry, Beth," he softly answered. "Satchmo needed to go out and I needed some fresh air. I wasn't trying to cause trouble."

"Neal, you aren't supposed to be walking such long distances on your own yet. Dr. Jackson said you still needed to take it easy."

"I _was_ taking it easy," Neal explained. "I just walked to the park, Beth. It's only two blocks away. No big deal."

Elizabeth's face burned with anger at that answer. "No big deal? Then why were you short of breath and looking like you were about to pass out by the time you got home?"

Neal started to answer her, but she cut him off. "And don't you lie to me, young man! You looked like death warmed over when I first saw you."

"I'm sorry," Neal repeated. "I just wanted to get out of the house for a while."

"Neal, I don't think you appreciate the extent of your recent injuries. You may not remember, but I remember clearly how bad off you were when they first brought you in. They whisked you off to surgery immediately and we waited hours for someone to tell us that you were okay. Then, when you were supposedly stable and in the Recovery room, you coded. You almost died, Neal. Dr. Jackson had to take you back into surgery to repair whatever was bleeding.

"I was there with Peter when Dr. Jackson listed all of your other injuries, too. Peter didn't know, but I overheard everything. I heard how your body was littered with bumps and bruises, how your jaw was dislocated, your nose broken, your kidney bruised. I heard about your broken ribs and the welts and bruises on your back.

"I was there every single day, Neal, when you were on the ventilator. I watched you fight for your life and I watched as my husband sat helplessly by your side. You don't know this, Neal, but he stayed right there the whole time. He only ever left when the nurses made him leave, but he returned to your bedside the second they let him.

"He rarely ate. He rarely slept. Every fiber of his being was focused on you, Neal. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to watch that? Can you even imagine how difficult it was to see the two of you so broken? I can honestly say that those were the darkest days of my life, Neal."

Neal couldn't believe the things Elizabeth was saying. He loosely knew the details of his first days in the hospital, but he had no idea that it had been as bad as Elizabeth now detailed. Neal was startled by the guilt that suddenly filled him. _How could he have been so thoughtless and inconsiderate?!_

"Elizabeth," he pleaded. "I'm really sorry. What I did was extremely inconsiderate and I apologize for that."

For some reason that Neal couldn't fathom, Elizabeth looked even angrier. He had apologized as sincerely as he could, but it was obviously not enough to soothe her. Seconds later, he finally understood.

"You still don't get it, Neal. Why do you think I'm upset?"

Neal thought that was a pretty stupid question, actually. "You're upset because I went for a walk by myself, even though Dr. Jackson hasn't cleared me for that yet," he answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

"No," Elizabeth yelled loudly. "That's not it, Neal. I'm upset because you continue to do things that might cause you harm, without thinking for a single second of the consequences. What would have happened, Neal, if you had fallen and hurt yourself out there?"

"I would have called someone for help, Beth."

"Really? How would you have done that, Neal? Your phone was stuck in between the sofa cushions, which means that you would have had to rely on someone passing by to hear your cry for help. We live in New York, Neal. Most cries for help are ignored, remembered?

"And what if Silas Dmitri appeared? Would you have been able to fight him or his men off? No! More than likely, you would have been either killed or kidnapped. How do you think Peter would have dealt with that? How do you think I would have dealt with that? Or June? Or Mozzie?"

When he didn't answer, Elizabeth continued. "We would have all been devastated, Neal."

Again, Neal offered an apology. "I really am sorry, Beth," he said genuinely. "I wasn't thinking, I guess."

Elizabeth sat down next to Neal on the sofa and grabbed one of his hands, holding it tightly between her own. "Sweetie, you are one of the most intelligent people I've ever known. When you use that head of your's, problems can be solved so easily. When you take the time to stop and think about what you're doing, problems can be averted. But, sweetie, you have absolutely no propensity for self-preservation. You have no reservations about putting yourself at risk for whatever reason. That _has _to stop! You _have_ to realize that there are people that care immensely for you and would be devastated if something happened to you. You _have_ to realize that there are people that love you. You _have_ to start seeing the value of your life and treat it accordingly."

Neal could feel his eyes burning with tears and couldn't bring himself to look at Elizabeth. He wanted desperately to find truth in her words, to believe what she was saying, but he wasn't sure if he could. There was a part of him, deep within his soul, that believed he was unlovable. _How could someone who had grown up feeling unloved by his own parents ever feel like he was worthy of being loved? The scars from his childhood ran too deep._

* * *

Elizabeth watched the young man in front of her, wishing that she could understand what was going through his mind. She knew that her words were harsh and unsettling to him, but he needed to hear them. He needed to understand that it wasn't okay for him to take such risks with his well-being. That it would never be okay. He had to understand that he was so loved and cherished, and that his foolish risk-taking wouldn't be tolerated anymore.

As she watched the different emotions play across his face, she caught a glimpse of the vulnerability that had first endeared him to her. Neal was a master at hiding his emotions and making you see what he wanted you to see. His ability to keep his desires and emotions hidden from those around him was astounding. But, with these recent events, Elizabeth had started to notice chinks in his armor. More and more often, she was witness to the baring of his soul, even if for only the briefest of moments.

She was pretty sure that Neal had no idea that his defenses were weakening. She was also fairly sure that Peter wasn't privy to the same awareness that she was. Her husband's ability to read emotions was comparable to an inanimate object's ability. She sometimes thought that she could wear her emotions spelled out on a shirt with flashing lights and he still wouldn't understand. As much as she loved the man, he could really be oblivious when it came to emotional matters.

To expect him to be able to read Neal's well-disguised emotions was ridiculous.

Turning back to the still unsettled looking man on her sofa, she gathered her courage again. She knew that she had to be stern and unyielding if she was going to get him to understand what she was saying. Unfortunately, being stern with Neal Caffrey was exceptionally difficult. When he looked up at her with his big blue eyes, she wanted nothing more than to pull him into a hug and forget about everything else. Luckily, she knew that that was exactly what he was trying to accomplish by giving her that look. _He was really good at it, too._

"Neal, I don't expect you to understand this easily, especially since I'm not sure I can even explain it appropriately, but Peter and I love you. Since you came into our lives, everything has changed, in ways we could have never foreseen. Peter and I were never lucky enough to have children of our own, but despite the fact that you're a grown man, we both feel as if we've finally gotten a chance."

She noticed the strange look that came over Neal's face at that, but continued on. "I know that sounds strange, but it's the truth. We worry about you just like we would our own child. We take pride in your accomplishments and are disappointed when you make the wrong choices, just like we would with our own child. We want what's best for you, Neal. And we want desperately for you to live up to your potential."

"Elizabeth," Neal spoke in a near whisper. "I don't think Peter sees our relationship as that of father and son."

Elizabeth immediately noticed the sad, yet wistful quality to Neal's voice, causing her heart to break a little more. "I think I would know how my husband sees your relationship, Neal. You are constantly a topic of conversation in this household, after all."

Neal looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

Taking a seat next to him on the sofa, Elizabeth grabbed both of his hands. "Neal, I only know the little bit that Peter has shared with me, but I can imagine that your childhood was anything but ideal. From what Peter has told me, your mother wasn't really there for you in a way a mother should be, and your step-father was an evil, maniacal bully. You lived your childhood not even knowing your true name and you were forced to take part in several different criminal acts. Yet, you turned out to be an amazing, talented young man."

"I'm a con artist, Beth, and a convicted bond forger. I've done nothing but wreak havoc on the lives of anyone who gets close to me. Kate and Ellen are both dead because of me. Peter went to prison because of me. You were _kidnapped _because of me! I definitely didn't turn out amazing," Neal countered. He looked like he was going to continue, but stopped himself at the furious look on Elizabeth's face.

"You're so much more than just a con artist and a forger, Neal Caffrey, and you are not solely responsible for any of those events you just mentioned. Yes, you've made bad choices. Yes, you've done things that you shouldn't have done. But, those things don't define who you are and I won't tolerate you talking about yourself in such a way. Is that clear?"

When Neal didn't answer, Elizabeth asked him again. "Is that clear, Neal?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied softly.

"Good! Now, let's talk about consequences," she said.

"Consequences?" Neal asked.

"Yes, consequences, Neal. Those are things that happen as a result of actions. I'm sure you're familiar with the idea, right?"

"I spent almost four years in prison, Beth, so I'm pretty sure I understand the concept of consequences."

"Good, then that should save us a little time. What do you think the consequences of your actions this afternoon should be?"

Neal looked at her incredulously, trying to figure out if she was being serious. The look on his face almost made Elizabeth laugh, but she was able to contain it.

"What do you mean?" Neal warily asked her.

"What I mean, Neal, is that you made a few very poor choices this afternoon, and I want to make sure that you think twice before making that mistake again. Therefore, there should be consequences that will serve to remind you in the future to make better choices."

"Elizabeth, you do realize that I'm a grown man, right?"

"Physically, yes, you are a grown man. Emotionally, I'm not so sure. You are too impulsive for your own good, Neal, and that absolutely has to stop."

"Okay, I get it," Neal agreed. "I promise I'll stop and think before I do anything in the future. And I promise I'll do what I'm supposed to do."

"That's great, sweetie," Elizabeth said with a smile. "Now, let's talk about those consequences…"

* * *

By the time Peter was able to return his wife's call, it was nearly six o'clock. When he told her that he was on his way home, she decided to wait to talk to him, not seeing any reason to worry him while he was driving.

Forty minutes later, he pulled up to his house, eager to see his wife and to see how Neal was doing. It had been a long day and he had really missed his partner, not that he would ever admit that to anyone. As frustrating as Neal could be at any given moment, the young man definitely added excitement and flair to his day.

As soon as he walked through the door, Elizabeth met him with a cold beer in her hand. "Here you go, hon. You look like you could use a beer."

Peter took the beer from her hand and then reached down and pulled her too him, planting a kiss on her lips. "Thanks, hon. It's been a long day."

Following him into the living room, Elizabeth sat down on the sofa, pulling the blanket that Neal had been using up over her legs. For the first time, Peter noticed the absence of their houseguest.

"Where's Neal? Is he okay?" he asked, surprising himself with the sound of worry in his voice.

"He's fine," Elizabeth said. "He's upstairs in his room."

"He's sleeping?" Peter knew that Neal had taken to napping downstairs on the sofa, so for him to be upstairs at this time of day was unusual.

"No, he's awake," Elizabeth replied. She could tell that Peter was confused, so she decided to have mercy and explain everything to him. "I sent him up to his room an hour ago."

Peter's eyes widened at his wife's words. "You _sent _him to his room? To do what?"

Elizabeth laughed at his confusion. "I didn't send him to his room to do something, hon. I sent him to his room as a punishment."

Peter had just taken a drink of his beer and nearly spit it out at his wife's words. "What?" he sputtered, after swallowing the beer. "What happened?"

Elizabeth spent the next ten minutes filling him in on Neal's activities of the day and watching as Peter's face darkened.

"What the hell was he thinking?!" he growled. And then, "Never mind. He wasn't thinking. As usual."

Peter stood up, obviously intending to go upstairs and talk to his errant partner, but Elizabeth stopped him. "Peter, dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes and I told him he had to stay up there until dinner. You can talk to him after dinner, okay?"

"Fine," Peter grumbled. "That will give me enough time to figure out what to do with him."

* * *

Once dinner was ready, Elizabeth called up to Neal. They were sitting at the table when Neal slowly shuffled into the room. Elizabeth had expected him to look embarrassed, but instead he looked as if nothing had happened.

"Hey, Peter," he said as he flashed his most charming grin.

"Neal," Peter answered stiffly.

"How was your day? Catch any bad guys?"

Peter passed a quick look to his wife, who was just watching everything play out. "As a matter of fact, we did. Jones finally found a connection between the Executor of the Windham estate and the illegitimate daughter of Phillip Windham himself. They planned on bilking the estate out of millions of dollars. How was your day?"

For just a fraction of a second, Peter glimpsed a look of uncertainty pass over Neal's face. But, just as quickly as he had seen it, it was replaced by Neal's normal mask of inscrutable ordinariness. In that split second, Peter knew the kid had hatched a plan to get himself out of the situation he was in.

"Well," Neal stated, "it started out pretty good, but then Beth was called into the office for some kind of emergency. It just went downhill after that."

Peter was surprised to hear Neal refer to Elizabeth as Beth, but decided to ignore it for the moment. _Better to stay on task and not give the young man more time to do whatever it was he was doing_.

"Oh? How so?"

"You know how I get when I'm bored, Peter. And I've been holed up in this house for way too long. I needed to get out for a while."

The look in Neal's eyes begged Peter to understand where he was coming from and Peter found himself wanting to accommodate him. Fortunately, Elizabeth chose that moment to kick him under the table, bringing him back to his senses.

"So, you thought that since no one was here to stop you, you could just do whatever you wanted? Is that it?"

"Of course not," Neal grinned. "If I was going to do whatever I wanted, I would have made my way to the Gansevoort and ordered some of that rosemary-infused Ketel One they stock and a half order of oysters."

"Well, at least you're capable of showing a _little_ restraint, kid," Peter snorted before being kicked under the table again. "What did you end up doing, then?"

"Come on, Peter. You already know what I did. I'm sure Beth told you within five minutes of you walking through the door."

"She did," Peter admitted. "Because she was worried about you, Neal. And angry."

"No kidding," Neal groaned.

"Why do you think she was so angry, partner?"

Neal groaned again and threw his napkin down on his empty plate. "I know why she was angry, okay? We've already been over this, so stop treating me like I'm five years old."

"We're not treating you like a five year old, Neal," Elizabeth interjected.

"Really? Because the last I heard, grown men don't get sent to their rooms unless they're about to get lucky. And grown men don't have to sit through the same lecture over and over again. In fact, grown men get to do whatever the hell they want to do."

"That's enough, Neal," Peter said quietly. "Elizabeth and I understand that you're upset and frustrated, but you don't get to take it out on us. In fact, I think that you're trying to turn the tables on me. Is that it? You know I'm upset, but you're going to turn it around on me, in the hopes that I'll feel bad about upsetting you? Am I right?"

Neal didn't answer Peter. Instead, he bowed his head and stared at the table. Peter knew that he had hit the nail on the head with his interpretation of Neal's actions, but now he had no idea how to handle the situation. The poor kid was right in the fact that they really didn't need to keep on lecturing him on the same point. Neal was smart enough to know why they were upset with him. He just needed to get his brain and his heart on the same page.

"Okay, listen up….. You messed up today and I'm sure you're aware of that fact. Elizabeth talked to you earlier about why she was so upset and then she gave you some time alone to think things over. I'm not going to lecture you anymore. I'm going to believe that my wife did an excellent job at making you understand everything and then I'm going to just reiterate one other point."

Peter noticed Neal rolling his eyes, but didn't stop. "We worry about you, Neal, because we care for you. You are a part of this family, whether you like it or not, and when you're part of the Burke family, you have an obligation to take care of yourself. No ifs, ands, or buts! Elizabeth and I would be devastated if something happened to you, kid, so you need to hone your self-preservation skills to a fine point. Are we clear on that point?"

"We're clear," Neal answered.

"Okay, then…..pass the potatoes, please. I'm starved."

* * *

After dinner was over, Neal helped clear the table before heading back upstairs. Peter invited him to stay downstairs and watch a movie with them, but he declined the offer. Ever since Elizabeth's lecture, his mind had been spinning in chaotic circles. He knew that Elizabeth wouldn't lie to him about something so important, but he couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that they really, truly loved him. And then, to hear that they actually thought of him as family...as their son... had flipped his universe completely on its side.

He, of course, thought of them as family, but he had no idea the thought was reciprocated. _Why would they want such a screw-up in their lives? What did he have to offer them other than frustration and heartache?_

Once he was upstairs, he quickly changed into his pajamas and brushed his teeth, before climbing into bed. As he lay in the bed, staring up at the ceiling, he thought about everything that had been said, replaying it over and over and over until his head actually started hurting.

An hour later, he was still wide awake, his head pounding in time with his heartbeat. Just as he was about to get up and take some more of his pain medication, he heard footsteps on the stairs, and knowing that whoever it was would most likely check in on him, he rolled over onto his side and pulled the comforter up to his chin.

After a soft knock, the door opened slowly and he heard Elizabeth's soft steps pad across the floor. He tried his best to look relaxed and to keep his breathing even and deep. He must have succeeded, because after a few seconds, Elizabeth bent down and kissed him gently on the top of his head.

"Goodnight, sweetie," she whispered. "Sweet dreams."

He listened as she walked back to the door, but didn't hear the door close behind her. Not wanting to take a chance that she might be watching him from the door, he held as still as possible. The next sound he heard, though, was the heavier footsteps that belonged to Peter. Once again, he relaxed his body and concentrated on his breathing. He could feel Peter's gaze on him and he fought the urge to wiggle and squirm. Seconds later, he felt Peter's calloused hand carding his hair back on his forehead. He was surprised at how gentle the man's touch was. Without saying or doing anything else, Peter turned away from the bed and walked to the door.

Just as the door was closing, Neal heard Peter say something that rocked him to his core.

"Goodnight, son."

* * *

Author's note: To show my appreciation for the love you've all shown this story, I finished this chapter as fast as I could. I'm pretty sure I won't be able to keep up with this update pattern for too much longer, though. Duty calls and I'll be back to work on Friday.

This chapter just poured out of me, so I hope it's not substandard in any way. These characters are so demanding and I aim to please, lol.

I would love to know what you all thought of this chapter. Was Elizabeth too hard on Neal? Too easy? Did Peter react the way you thought he would? What about Neal's reaction to learning how the Burkes really feel about him? I've tried so hard to keep everyone in character, but sometimes that's really hard, especially in non-canon stories.

Thanks so much for reading, all. You guys are amazing!


	20. You And I Walk A Fragile Line

What He Does Best

Chapter 20

* * *

Neal couldn't sleep. He had gone to bed at ten o'clock, feeling exhausted, but was still wide awake almost six hours later. He figured that his insomnia was related to the fact that he was actually going back to work the next morning. It had been five weeks since Dmitri had taken him and tortured him. Since his release from the hospital, he had been staying with Peter and Elizabeth, recovering nicely under their watchful eyes.

His stay with the Burkes definitely had its high and low points. As he lay in his bed, he thought about everything that had happened while he had been there. Overall, it had been a great experience, especially when he had discovered that Peter and Elizabeth actually thought of him as family. But, there were a few flies in the ointment, too. _Like when he discovered that Peter and Elizabeth actually thought of him as family. _

Neal laughed at himself, thinking about how being a part of their family could be both a _great_ thing and an_ exasperating_ thing. In all of his years, he had never had someone to watch over him so lovingly. Elizabeth was a true nurturer and caregiver and Neal was amazed at how conscientious and diligent she was in taking care of him. She always made sure that he took his medications like he was supposed to. She went out of her way to cook all his favorite foods. She cleaned his wounds and changed his dressings, never making it seem like he was burdening her. She was a near constant companion whenever Peter was gone and they often shared the most enlightening conversations.

With that being said, Neal was ashamed to admit that sometimes her constant companionship could be overwhelming and stifling. He was used to living alone and he enjoyed his solitude from time to time. To always have someone hovering close by was hard to get used to.

Of course, the second part of the exasperating thing was the fact that both Peter and Elizabeth had decided that Neal's behavior was unacceptable and shouldn't be allowed to continue. All of a sudden, they both felt the need to correct him on every misdeed, every misstep. Suddenly, they took it upon themselves to ensure that Neal acted appropriately and responsibly. Neal, of course, balked at this sudden show of seemingly parental solidarity they had adopted. He learned quickly how to isolate each of them and play one off the other, and he learned what to do to get himself out of trouble with both of them. He could usually appease Peter by agreeing with the man on whatever stance he was taking at the moment, apologizing immediately and promising to change his ways. Peter liked it when people agreed with him, so that's what Neal did. And then, the minute Peter turned his back, Neal went right back to doing things his own way.

It was a little trickier with Elizabeth. She always seemed to catch on to whatever game Neal was playing fairly easily. And since she was the one that stayed with him the most, she kept a closer eye on him. Eventually, though, Neal learned that the way to handle Elizabeth was through her heart and emotions. He hated to think that he was manipulating her feelings, but he really didn't have a choice. Elizabeth hated to see the young man upset about anything, so whenever she called him on his behavior, he would immediately withdraw into himself and give her the most pitiful look he could manage before apologizing profusely. This would most likely stop Elizabeth in her tracks, making her forget whatever she was going to say about actions and consequences, wanting only to comfort him instead.

The first time this happened, Elizabeth was upset with Neal because he failed to tell her that he was feeling sick. He was still feeling pretty weak, so a mid-afternoon nap wasn't that unusual for him. One afternoon, when he suddenly developed a headache, followed closely by dizziness, he told Elizabeth that he was tired and ready for a nap. She didn't think anything of it as he walked up to his bedroom, however, when she went upstairs almost two hours later to check on him, she noticed that his face was flushed, but that there was also an underlying paleness to him. Without waking him up, she placed the back of her hand gently against his forehead and was surprised to feel how hot it was.

When Neal woke up an hour later, he was surprised to see Elizabeth sitting in his desk chair right next to his bed, staring at him. He noticed that she did _not_ look happy at all.

"Hey, Beth. Is everything okay?" Neal was surprised to find that his voice was hoarse and his throat hurt.

"I don't know, Neal. I thought maybe you could answer that yourself. Is there something you want to tell me?"

Sitting up in bed, Neal was hit by a sudden wave of dizziness so profound that he felt nauseous. Looking at Elizabeth, he could tell that she knew something was going on with him. "I'm fine, Beth," he said in the most convincing voice he could muster. "Still not quite awake, I guess."

"Neal, I know there's more going on than that. I would appreciate it if you were honest with me."

Neal started to make another excuse, but could tell by the look on the woman's face that he should tell the truth. "I'm just a little dizzy and my head hurts, but I'm fine."

"Neal George Caffrey, you know better than to lie to me or keep something like that from me. How can I take care of you, if you're not honest about how you're feeling?"

"Come on, Beth, it's just a headache. I've had worse, trust me."

When Elizabeth looked like she was either going to start lecturing him or strangle him, Neal quickly changed his tactic. He suddenly looked away from her, staring at his hands that were clutched together in his lap. When he looked up at her again, his eyes were as doleful as he could make them. Making sure that there was just the right amount of quivering in his voice, he spoke. "I guess I'm just used to nobody caring if I was sick, Beth. My mother didn't know how to deal with a sick child, so she usually just told me to go to bed and that I would feel better in the morning."

Neal could tell by the look on Elizabeth's face that her heart was breaking for him as she thought again of what his childhood must have been like. For a second, he felt guilty for manipulating her emotions in such a way, but then he justified his actions by reminding himself that he wasn't really lying to her. His mother _didn't _know how to deal with a sick child and he _was _used to nobody caring if he was sick.

"Oh, sweetie," Elizabeth said softly as she grabbed one of his hands. "I'm so sorry and I promise you that there are plenty of people in your life now who care if you're sick. So, from this point forward, you just need to be honest with us, okay? No more hiding these things from us. Now, how about if I round up some soup and fever medicine for you?"

Neal had been relieved that Elizabeth's "face the consequence" lecture had been averted and that he had figured out how to avoid them in the future.

Of course, his new techniques weren't always successful. There were still a few times that no matter how accommodating he was with Peter or how vulnerable he appeared to Elizabeth, he would have to face the consequences of his actions. Usually, those times were whenever he did something they deemed to be careless in nature. Peter and Elizabeth really hated it when he was careless.

He also learned quickly that when he wanted or needed something, he had to be particularly choosy with who he asked. When he decided that he was ready to go home, he knew that it was going to be hard to sell the idea to both Peter and Elizabeth. He had a sneaking suspicion that he would just move in with them, if they had it their way.

After giving it much thought, he decided to run his idea by Dr. Jackson during his next appointment. He figured that it would go a lot smoother if he had the good doctor's blessing on the matter. Once the appointment was over, he was excited that the doctor had agreed with him in thinking that he was okay to return to his own home, as long as agreed to still take it somewhat easy. Dr. Jackson also thought that it was okay for Neal to go back to work the next week. Of course, he reiterated several times that he would be returning on a limited capacity with continued restrictions.

When Neal decided to share the good news with the Burkes, he figured that Peter would be the place to start. Of course, it helped that Peter was the one that was waiting in the doctor's office for his appointment to finish.

Peter could tell right away that things must have gone good in the appointment. The smile that was on Neal's face was one he hadn't really seen since the kidnapping. "Hey, partner. You must have got some good news."

Neal stopped in front of Peter, his smile almost blinding under the fluorescent lights of the waiting room. "Do you want the good news first or the bad news?" Neal asked.

"There's bad news?"

Neal almost laughed at the nervousness in his partner's voice. "Fine," he quipped. "Since you asked, I guess that means you want the bad news first." Neal tried to look serious, but he was too happy to pull it off. Fortunately, Peter was so preoccupied with his growing sense of dread that he didn't notice Neal's peculiar behavior. "The bad news… well, I guess it's actually bad news disguised as good news."

"What are you talking about, kid? Just spit it out…." Peter's frustration was growing by the second.

"Fine," Neal laughed. "Dr. Jackson says I can go back to work on Monday."

Peter looked confused. "That's the bad news? I thought you wanted to come back to work. You've done nothing but complain about being bored since you left the hospital, so I figured getting back to work would be good for you."

"Oh, I _do_ want to come back to work, Peter," Neal answered. "I'm ready."

"Then, where does the bad news come in?" Peter asked.

"I guess it's not really bad news," Neal admitted. "More like annoying news. Anyway, Dr. Jackson released me to go back to work, but he placed several restrictions on me."

"What kind of restrictions?" Peter asked.

"They're stupid, Peter," Neal growled. "He says no field work for the time being, but I think that's ridiculous. I'm doing great and I'll be even better come Monday. I promise I'll take it easy."

Peter was looking at Neal like he had grown another head. "You're not being serious, are you? You really don't expect me to go against your doctor's orders after everything you've been through, do you? Dr. Jackson is an exceptional doctor, and I trust his judgement, so if he says you can go back to work with restrictions, then we will follow those restrictions."

"Oh, come on, Peter. You and I both know that doctors say that for liability reasons."

"I don't really care why they say it, Neal. Until you get full clearance, you're stuck with paperwork, cold files, and surveillance."

Peter laughed at the disappointed look on his partner's face, knowing that he was thinking about having to sit at his desk while the rest of the team was in the field. "Okay, well since we've heard the bad news, what's the good news?"

He was relieved to see another blinding smile from Neal. "Ah, the good news is good, indeed. Dr. Jackson said I can go home."

Peter's face immediately darkened at that. "What?! I don't think you're ready for that yet!"

"Wait a minute, Peter….you just proclaimed that Dr. Jackson was an exceptional doctor and that you trusted his judgement! You can't pick and choose what judgements you want to trust!"

"Yes, I can," Peter said after looking around to make sure that Dr. Jackson wasn't around. "He doesn't know how tired you still get. Or how you don't eat enough or take your medicine if Elizabeth isn't there to remind you."

"Peter, I'm fine. And I promise I'll eat regularly and take my medicine. Besides, do you really think June isn't going to be hovering over me just as much as Elizabeth does? She'll probably be even worse, actually."

Peter continued to argue his point, but in the long run, he knew he had to let Neal go home if he wanted to. "Can you at least come home for one more night? I can take you back to your place in the morning. We need to give El a little bit of time to get used to the idea, too."

Peter was surprised that Neal agreed stay another night. He knew that the young man was chomping at the bit to return to his own place, but he also knew that he respected Elizabeth enough to give her one more night.

To say that Elizabeth was unhappy at the thought of Neal leaving was like saying that Noah built the ark because it rained a little. She immediately came up with several reasons for Neal to stay, but Neal quickly squashed them, reiterating over and over again that he was more than ready and able to go home. By the end of the evening, Elizabeth had resigned herself to the fact that tonight was their last night together.

Eventually, after a somewhat subdued dinner, Neal made his way back upstairs to his room. He would never admit it, but he knew that he would actually miss staying with Peter and Elizabeth. He really was looking forward to going home, but it was nice to know that he was going to be missed. Having just snuggled down into his bed, he was surprised to hear a soft knock at the door.

"Come in," he called out to whoever was on the other side of the door. He wasn't surprised to find Elizabeth entering the room and stepping softly over to his bed. Rolling over onto his back, he scooted over to the wall, so that Elizabeth could sit on the edge of the bed.

"Hey, sweetie…..I just wanted to say goodnight," Elizabeth said softly.

Neal noticed that her eyes were shining with tears, so he gently took her hands and held them in his. "Come on, Beth," he teased. "I'm not going away forever. I'll just be a few miles away and you'll still see me, I promise."

"I'm not worried about that," Elizabeth answered. "Neal, you have no idea how scared we all were when that man took you! Or how hard it was to sit by your hospital bed for days on end, not knowing if you were going to wake up. Having you here…..knowing that you're safely sleeping just a few rooms away…well, that's the only way I've been able to get through these last weeks. What if something happens to you when you're at home and nobody knows? What if you need something in the middle of the night?"

"Beth, I'll be fine. And if I need something, I'll call you. Or Peter. Or June…..or Mozzie."

"Promise me that you'll take care of yourself, Neal. Promise me that you won't do anything stupid and that you'll eat enough and take your medicine. Promise me that you'll behave!"

"I promise, Beth."

Without saying another word, Elizabeth kissed Neal on the forehead and walked out of the room, leaving Neal to wonder what he had ever done to deserve being loved by Peter and Elizabeth.

* * *

The next morning, Elizabeth woke up early and fixed Neal his favorite breakfast. Once he was done eating, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, said goodbye, and walked upstairs. Neal and Peter both watched after her, not knowing what to say or do to make her feel better.

"Well, we better get going," Peter finally said. "I have a meeting this morning at nine o'clock and we're probably going to hit some pretty thick traffic on the expressway."

Neal bent down to pick up his bag, but Peter beat him to it. "Peter, I can carry my own bag," he groaned.

"I got it, Neal. Just get in the car, okay?"

Neal followed Peter down the curb and climbed into the passenger seat. He buckle up as he waited for Peter to throw his bag in the backseat. Once Peter started driving, an uncomfortable silence settled between them.

Finally, Neal couldn't take it anymore. "Peter, I'll be fine," he said for what felt like the thousandth time. "There's no need for you or Beth to worry, really."

After a long pause, Peter finally answered. "I know you'll be fine, kid, but I think you're going to have to get used to us worrying about you. It comes with the territory."

Neal knew that the territory Peter was referring to was that of being a part of their family. He knew that he would more than likely get annoyed at all of the overprotective behavior that was sure to be aimed his way by the Burkes, but he also knew that deep down he appreciated it. Before he could formulate any type of response, he felt Peter looking closely at him.

"What? Do I have something on my face? Why are you looking at me like that?" Neal finally asked.

Peter didn't answer for a long time, but when he did, his reply surprised Neal.

"I was just wondering how this "Beth" thing came to be. I've never known anyone to call Elizabeth that."

Neal thought back on when he had first started calling her that and knew that he couldn't tell Peter the truth. He had, of course, called her Beth, hoping it would endear him to her a little more, and make her a little less angry that he had gone out for a walk by himself. He wasn't sure that it had worked the way he had intended, but for some reason the nickname stuck. He liked calling her Beth and he liked that he was the only one that called her that. In return, she was the only one that called him "sweetie."

"I don't really know, Peter. I just called her Beth one day and it stuck, I guess. She doesn't mind me calling her that, does she?" he asked, suddenly nervous.

"No," Peter immediately replied. "No, she likes it. She told me last night that she was going to miss hearing you call her that."

Neal sighed in relief. Unfortunately, that relief faded at Peter's next words.

"Especially when you're trying to get out of trouble with her," Peter said with a grin.

"What?! Th-that's not why I call her that!" Neal sputtered.

"Neal, after all this time haven't you learned anything about my wife? She's the smartest woman I know and even _you_ can't pull one over on her."

Neal was beginning to understand the truth in those words.

* * *

By the time Peter arrived to pick him up on Monday morning, Neal was dressed and ready to go. He had only managed to get a mere three hours of sleep and knew that it was going to be a long day, but he was more than ready to get back to work.

It had been wonderful to be back in his own place, but he hadn't lied to Elizabeth when he said that June was sure to hover over him, making sure that he was taken care of. She made a point to check on him every two hours, even enlisting the help of her staff, if she was gone from the house. Between her checking up on him so frequently and Mozzie hanging around, drinking his wine, Neal had had very little time to himself. In fact, the only uninterrupted time he had was when he was supposed to be sleeping.

Of course, Neal had gotten very little sleep at all due to the fact that whenever he closed his eyes, he imagined Dmitri hovering over the top of him. Just as he was about to fall asleep, he would hear what sounded like Dmitri's heavy footsteps walking over to his bed. At one point, he even thought he could smell the man's cologne wafting through the air.

None of these "hallucinations" allowed him to get more than twenty to thirty minutes of sleep at a time. Now, as he was ready to face Peter, he hoped that his eyes weren't too red. He didn't want to give the man any reason to think that Neal returning home was a bad idea.

"Hey, Partner. Are you ready for this?" Peter asked when Neal opened the door and climbed into the car.

"I'm ready," Neal answered as jovially as he could.

"Good. I brought a coffee and one of El's danishes," Peter said as he handed Neal a cup.

Neal took the coffee and Danish, hoping that Peter didn't notice his hands shaking. He could tell by the long look Peter was giving him that the man had noticed. "Thanks, Peter. This ought to help wake me up."

"How did you sleep last night, Neal?" Peter asked. "You look a little tired."

"I'm fine, Peter. Just a few 'back to work' jitters, I think."

"Neal Caffrey doesn't get jitters," Peter scoffed. "What's going on?"

"It's nothing," Neal groaned. "I just didn't sleep well. It happens sometimes, you know?"

Peter could tell that Neal was annoyed, so he decided to drop the subject. "Well, what do you say we get going, then? Diana already called me this morning with some new leads on one of our cases."

"Great," Neal answered. "Let's go!"

The drive to the Federal building was filled with companionable conversation. Peter told Neal that Satchmo spent at least two days laying forlornly on Neal's old bed, waiting for the young man to come home. He told him that Elizabeth had to finally get one of Neal's t-shirts out of the laundry and let the poor dog cuddle up with it.

Neal told Peter that Mozzie had insisted on staying the first two nights with him, sleeping on the couch. Peter laughed at Neal's description of Mozzie snoring and talking in his sleep, until Neal reminded him that he snored just as loudly.

By the time they arrived at the Federal building, they both were eager to get everything back to normal. Neal was surprised by the welcome back he got from everyone in the unit. Even Hughes came downstairs to welcome him back. Neal was shocked when the man told him that it was good to have him back before giving him a one arm hug and a pat on the back. By the look on the faces of every agent in the room, they were all shocked by that.

Once everything had settle down again, Neal joined Peter, Jones, Diana, and a few other agents in the conference room to talk over their newest case. Unfortunately, it was another mortgage fraud case, so Neal quickly felt his attention wandering. It wasn't until Peter had called his name for the third time that he realized what was going on.

"Sorry, Peter. I must have checked out for a minute. You know how mortgage frauds bore me!"

"Pay attention, Neal," Peter chided. "You're not getting paid to "_check out_." We need you on this."

Neal blushed at getting called out on his lack of attention in front of the other agents. He knew that they were all watching him, so he tried to act like it didn't bother him that Peter reprimanded him. "Technically, you're not paying me at all, Peter, so it doesn't really matter if I _check out_, does it?"

"It definitely matters," Peter growled as he gave Neal the sternest look he could manage.

Neal immediately sat up straighter in his chair and opened the folder in front of him, eager to look like he was paying attention. When Peter looked satisfied at his response, he relaxed a little, but made sure that his attention didn't wander again. _It was definitely going to be a long day!_

* * *

Silas Dmitri was not a happy man. Over the last few years, he had thought about nothing other than the bonds that were sure to make him a rich man. He had never been angrier than he was when he discovered that the bonds were taken from his lock box. He knew that only one person would be stupid enough and brave enough to steal from him and he vowed to get his revenge.

It was sheer luck that he ever found the bonds again. Eight years before, he had the unpleasant task of packing up the house that he had shared with Tessa and Danny Brooks. Danny was long gone, having ran away the day that he turned eighteen, but he and Tessa had lived there until she became too sick to stay. Against his wishes, Tessa's illness had required her to be committed to a mental health facility. He hated leaving her there, but he knew that she really did need the treatment.

Once she was settled in a facility in Chicago, he returned to St. Louis and packed up everything he wanted to take with him. The house was easy to finish, mostly because there wasn't really anything he deemed worthy of taking. The furniture was well worn and the various knick-knacks were cheap and gaudy. Tessa really wasn't much of a homemaker. The only things that held any remote value to him were the numerous paintings left behind by Danny. _The boy really was talented._

Unfortunately, Dmitri had no need for Danny's works where he was going, so he left them there in the house. Most of the things he needed to take with him were out in the workshop, so Dmitri focused most of his time out there. He wasn't looking for the forged bonds, because he figured that Danny had taken them with him when he left.

It was truly by accident that the bonds were discovered. He had just finished loading up the last box when he went back to the workshop to turn off the lights and lock the door. As he stepped back out of the workshop, he slammed the door shut, but it bounced against the frame and flew back open. Stepping back inside, he cursed when he realized that the door had banged against the wall, punching a hole through the drywall. He turned the lights back on to investigate the damage, wondering how much it was going to cost him to fix the hole. He knew that the new owner of the house wouldn't be happy to know that he had damaged the workshop.

Not really being able to see the damage well, he grabbed a flashlight and aimed it right at the hole. He didn't think it really looked that bad and was just about to put the flashlight away when something caught his attention. Reaching into the hole, he felt around until he found what it was. He couldn't believe what he was seeing when he realized that he was holding the forged bonds in his hands.

He also couldn't believe that the boy had left the bonds behind.

* * *

Eventually, after combing through the mortgage fraud case for over two hours, Peter had mercy on the team and started talking about another case. Neal was excited when Peter told them to put the mortgage fraud files away. However, his excitement quickly turned to barely veiled anxiety when Peter started talking about the forged bonds case. He knew that it was only a matter of time until they traced the bonds back to Dmitri and then back to him.

Listening to Diana's recounting of all the evidence they had so far, Neal realized that his step-father was a desperate, greedy man. He hoped that that desperation and greediness would be the end of Silas Dmitri, once and for all.

* * *

Author's note: Sorry for the wait, everyone, but I had to work. This chapter was a little bit of a transition chapter, hopefully helping to move the story into its second part without too much confusion. I'm also writing this at 4am, so I hope it's all making sense. Let me know if something isn't making sense or if the story isn't flowing right, okay?

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. You are all much appreciated! Take care...


	21. Caught In The Undertow

What He Does Best

Chapter 21

* * *

Silas looked steadily at the woman sitting across the table from him. The years hadn't been kind to Tessa Brooks-Dmitri. Her life choices had been even less kind. He remembered when he first met her, thinking that she had such a timeless beauty about her. Now, that beauty was all but completely gone, leaving in its place a sad caricature of what once was.

Tessa had withered away, emaciation causing her cheekbones, clavicles, and ribs to jut out sharply. Her emaciated state was in sharp contrast to the bloating distention of her abdomen, courtesy of the end stages of liver disease. Her skin was sallow and jaundiced. Her eyes were a sickly yellow and Silas could no longer detect the shade of blue in her eyes that he had loved so much. Instead, her irises were a pale shadow of their former glory.

As he studied her, he wasn't really sure that she knew who he was. Sometimes, she would immediately recognize him, other times she would call him by her first husband's name. Sometimes she told him that she liked it where she was, other times she begged him to take her away. He never knew exactly which version of Tessa he was going to see, but there was always one thing that never changed….one consistency that baffled and angered him. Regardless of what state she was in, she _always_ asked about her son.

Silas truly found this baffling. Although Tessa had always been a good wife to him, she had never been a good mother to Danny. Silas would never admit it out loud, but he had always been a little surprised to witness how selfish and neglectful she was. Not that he minded, of course, because Danny was always a nuisance, always causing problems or needing something from them. But now….. for her to repeatedly ask about him, as if he were the most important thing in her world…..well, he just didn't understand it. It made no sense at all.

He could tell by looking at her that she was having a bad day. Her eyes were extremely jaundiced and her abdomen looked rock hard under her thin shirt. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she was in severe pain. And that she really didn't know who he was.

"Hi, Tessa," he said softly as he gently grabbed her hand. "How are you today?"

She turned her face to look at him and he could tell that she was trying to figure out who he was.

"It's me, Tessa….Silas."

"Silas?" she asked, her voice weak and quiet. "Where's James?"

He flinched as she looked around him, as if waiting for someone else to enter the room. Silas decided to ignore her question, hoping that she would forget about James. "How are you feeling today, Tess? Have you already eaten lunch?"

Tessa ignored him as she continued to look at the doorway behind him. "Did he go to pick up Neal? It's his birthday today, you know. We're having a party for him."

Silas was surprised to hear her refer to her son as Neal. Even though she sometimes referred to Silas as James, she _never _called her son anything but Danny.

When he didn't answer her, Tessa started to get upset. "Where are they? Where is Neal?!"

"Tessa, everything's okay. You're in the hospital, remember?"

"I need Neal…..Please! Where is he?! Did something happen to him?"

"He's fine, Tessa. He just couldn't make it today, but I'm sure he'll visit you soon."

Tessa just looked at him before turning her gaze back to the door. Silas spent the next hour trying to get her to talk to him, but to little avail. A few times, her eyes would light up in memory of something, but that light would just as quickly fade away. He took joy in the rare moments that she seemed to remember who he was, but those moments were so fleeting.

Eventually, it was time for Silas to leave. He found it harder to leave with each consecutive visit, knowing that Tessa was more than likely nearing the end of her life. Getting up from the table, he stepped over to where she was sitting and placed a lingering kiss on her cheek.

"Goodbye, Tess. I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Will you bring Neal with you? I need to see Neal," she pleaded.

Just as he was about to walk out the door, he heard her last words. "James, bring Neal to me."

* * *

Neal's life was finally about to return to some semblance of normalcy, much to his great relief. He had spent the last four weeks at work sitting behind his desk or sitting in the surveillance van, watching as Peter and the rest of the team did the heavy lifting of whatever case they were working on. He spent hours looking through cold case after cold case, searching for anything that might have been missed by the previous agents. All in all, he cleared six cases and found valuable leads in a handful of other cases.

Even though he was successful with the cold cases, he was more than ready to return to full duty. He wasn't used to being confined to either the van or the White Collar offices, and he felt like he was going stir crazy. In fact, he was driving everyone else crazy, too. The day before his scheduled appointment with Dr. Jackson, Peter finally had had his fill of Neal's restlessness.

"Neal! Stop tapping your pen on the table." Peter looked at his partner in frustration. He was in the middle of giving a debriefing on a new case and the kid's constant motion was distracting him. "And stop swiveling in your chair. Do you need to go to the bathroom or something?"

Neal rolled his eyes and then glared at Peter, but immediately stopped swiveling in the chair and tapping the pen. He vowed to himself to pay attention, but it was only a few minutes later that he started clicking the end of the pen he was holding. He wasn't even aware he was doing it until he realized that Peter had stopped talking again and the whole room was now staring at him.

"Sorry," he said with a guilty grin as he put the pen down on the table. "Go on, Peter….."

Peter stared at Neal for a few long seconds, before turning back to the topic at hand. Neal tried his best to stay focused on what the man was saying, but it was just too much for him. Minutes later, he had the pen in his hand again and was doodling on a piece of paper. That, in itself, wasn't too distracting, but the fact that his left leg was bouncing rapidly was. Again, it took Neal several seconds to realize that Peter had stopped talking, but when he finally did, he was a little unsettled by the look Peter was giving him.

"Okay," Peter said as he clicked the computer screen off. "I think we could all use a little break. Let's reconvene in fifteen minutes."

Neal stood up and made to follow the rest of the agents out of the room, but Peter stopped him. "What's going on, Neal? Why are you so restless?"

"I don't know, Peter, but maybe it has something to do with the fact that I've spent the last four weeks cooped up in this office with a boss that doesn't like me and a bunch of bumbling junior agents."

"Hey, come on….They're not all bumbling junior agents. Some of them have real potential."

Neal noticed that Peter didn't deny the fact that Hughes didn't like him. He continued to glare at Peter, but the man was only amused by the pout that was now on his face.

"I can't stand being in here any longer, Peter," Neal whined. "If I see one more cold case file or hear one more junior agent talking about how lucky they are to be working with the great Peter Burke, I'm going to lose it."

"Cowboy up, Neal. You only have another two hours and then you can go home."

Neal gave Peter his best puppy dog look, hoping the man would have some mercy. "What if I knock off early, Peter? Then, you'll be sure that I won't be distracting anyone in the conference room."

"I need you here, Neal. I need you on this case."

"Fine," Neal answered. "Can I at least go grab some fresh air?"

"Fine," Peter echoed. "Don't be gone too long, though. We still have a lot to cover."

Peter watched as Neal turned and walked down the stairs and out the door, stopping only to grab his hat from his desk.

* * *

Neal could feel Peter's eyes on his back as he walked out to the elevators. He couldn't help but feel a little frustrated with the man, especially after the 'cowboy up' comment. He really, _really _hated it when Peter said that.

Stepping outside of the Federal building, Neal made his way over to a park half a block away. The park was really busy, so Neal sat down on the nearest empty bench and spent his time taking in deep lungfuls of the cool air as he watched the people around him.

As he sat there, his mind started wandering to the appointment with Dr. Jackson. He hoped that the young doctor would finally release him from the restrictions he was under, allowing him to go back to work without constraint. Other than a slight twinge in his ribs if he moved to fast, he felt like he had fully recovered from his injuries, and that he was more than able to return to work without any issues.

He had been staring down at the ground in front of him, his mind completely elsewhere, when he realized that someone was standing in front of him. Looking up to see who was standing in front of him, he felt his heart speed up, adrenaline suddenly pumping through his veins. He never expected Silas Dmitri, a man that was wanted by the FBI, to show his face less than a block away from a building full of agents.

"Hello, Danny….oh, sorry, I meant Neal." Dmitri gave Neal a fiendish smile, obviously pleased with the response he got from him.

"What are you doing here, Silas? What do you want?" Neal was relieved to find that his voice didn't betray his fear and nervousness. It was never a good idea to show Silas Dmitri that you were afraid.

"We need to talk about a few things, Neal. A few very important things."

"I don't think so, Silas. You do realize that the entire White Collar division is looking for you, not to mention the NYPD, too. You're crazy for being here."

"I'm really not worried about the FBI, Neal. The only agent that is capable of finding me is too busy watching over you."

Neal didn't even dignify that with a response. Instead, he searched the sidewalks for an agent, hoping that maybe one of them had taken a break at the same time as he did. Unfortunately, no one appeared to be with the FBI.

"What do you want?" Neal asked again.

Dmitri reached into his jacket pocket, causing Neal to tense up with anticipation. Instead of pulling out the expected gun, he pulled out a phone and a piece of paper and tried to hand them to Neal. Neal took a step backwards, refusing to take the proffered phone.

"What we need to talk about will take more time than your little break will afford us. Take this phone and keep it on you and I will text you with a place and a time to meet."

"What makes you think I'm stupid enough to meet with you, Silas? Who in their right mind would do that?!"

"If you know what's good for you, Neal, you'll do as I say. Now, take the damn phone!"

When Neal refused to take the phone again, Silas took a step toward the younger man. It took everything Neal had in him not to back away from the towering man, but he stood his ground.

Dmitri looked a little surprised at the look on Neal's face, but he quickly recovered. "You know," he said with a wicked grin. "The other day, I was taking a walk in Brooklyn and passed a beautiful dark haired woman with stunning blue eyes walking her dog. I think she called him "Satchmo" or something. I guess, if you're not planning on meeting with me, I just might go look her up. She really was something….."

"Leave her alone!" Neal snarled as he took a step closer to Dmitri. "Don't go anywhere near her, do you hear me?"

"If you don't want me to go near her, then you better agree to meeting with me, Neal. I'm not playing games."

Dmitri held out the phone again, and this time Neal plucked it out of his hand. "I mean it, Dmitri. Don't go anywhere near her!"

"As long as we have our meeting, she's safe, boy. If you don't answer the phone or if you don't show up, I'll declare open season on Elizabeth Burke. It's all up to you."

Without replying, Neal stepped around Dmitri and walked as steadily as he could back into the Federal building.

* * *

Peter was just about to send someone after Neal when the young man finally stepped out of the elevator. Peter could tell almost immediately that something was wrong with him, so he quickly walked down the stairs to meet him halfway.

"You're late," Peter chided. "Everyone else had been back for ten minutes already."

"Sorry," Neal answered quickly. "I…uh, I lost track of time, I guess."

Peter's concern was escalating with each passing second he spent looking at Neal. He could see a fine sheen of sweat covering Neal's face and could detect the finest tremor in his voice and in his hands. He also noticed that the young man was tremendously pale.

"Neal Caffrey doesn't lose track of time," Peter laughed. "Now, what's going on?"

"It's nothing, Peter," Neal said. "Maybe just something I ate while I was taking a break."

Peter was just about to ask another question, but Neal stepped around him and walked up to the conference room, leaving Peter no choice but to follow.

* * *

After the debriefing was finally over, Neal made a beeline to his desk, where he picked up his hat and started to walk out the door. He stopped just short of the open elevator door when he heard Peter call his name.

"Neal, why are you in such a hurry? And why are you leaving without me. I'm your ride home, remember?"

"I'm just going to call a taxi, Peter," Neal answered. "There's no reason for you to go so far out of your way to take me home."

"It's not that far out of the way, kid," Peter laughed. "Besides, I think you're forgetting that Elizabeth is expecting you for dinner tonight."

"I think I'll pass tonight, Peter. I'm a little tired."

"Come on, kid….. You know that's not going to fly with Elizabeth. She won't take no for an answer, especially since she spent hours making all of your favorites. Now, give me a second to talk to Hughes and then we can go."

Neal plopped down in his chair, knowing that Elizabeth wasn't the only one in the Burke family that wouldn't take no for an answer. As he waited for Peter to finish whatever he was doing, he thought about everything that Dmitri said. He knew without a doubt that the man would harm Elizabeth without blinking an eye, and he vowed to himself that he would do whatever he had to do to keep her safe.

* * *

Author's note: Well, this one is a bit shorter than my most recent ones, but it will have to suffice. I'm just about to fall asleep, so please forgive any grammatical/spelling errors you may come across. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Things will definitely be picking up a little more with the next few chapters, so grab a hold of something and hang on. It just might be a wild ride.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. You guys are all awesome!


	22. Come Around To Me

What He Does Best

Chapter 22

* * *

Although no one could tell by looking at him, Neal was a nervous mess. Every time a phone rang nearby, his heart would skip a beat and then lurch into overdrive. His palms were sweaty and there was still the finest tremor in his hands. Of course, being the consummate con man that he was, he appeared calm, cool, and collected to everyone around him.

He really wanted to go home and wait nervously for Dmitri to call, but instead he found himself stuck in the car with Peter, on his way to the Burke house for dinner. He usually enjoyed having dinner with Peter and Elizabeth, but the idea of having to act like nothing was wrong for the rest of the evening was overwhelming. Especially since what he really wanted to do was just crawl into his bed and forget everything.

Neal could tell that Peter was looking at him suspiciously, so he started fiddling with the radio, knowing that Peter would get annoyed with him. That particular act always seemed to take Peter's mind off of whatever he was ruminating on.

Just as he expected, Neal's hand was quickly slapped away from the radio controls by Peter.

"Hey! How many times do I have to tell you that _I'm_ in charge of the radio when we're in _my_ car?!"

"That's not fair, Peter," Neal whined. "It's too boring to listen to sports reports all the time. I think you should listen to NPR more often, so you can educate yourself on what's happening in the world."

"I'm well aware of what's happening in the world, Neal," Peter countered. "But, after a long day at work, I don't want to have to think too much. Sports are relaxing."

Neal knew he wasn't going to change Peter's mind, so he just leaned his head back against the head rest and closed his eyes. He tried to listen to what the sportscaster was saying….tried to take his mind off of Dmitri and the phone that was resting in his jacket pocket, but he couldn't. There was a small part of him that wanted to tell Peter what had happened that afternoon, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Peter would not take well the fact that Dmitri was threatening Elizabeth.

Neal was horrified when the phone in his pocket started ringing. He quickly reached into his pocket and tried to silence it, but he wasn't used to that particular type of phone and couldn't seem to find the right button without taking it completely out of his pocket. He knew, though, that he had to do something. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled the still ringing phone out and quickly shut it off. The silence left after the phone stopped ringing was almost deafening.

"Why didn't you just answer it?" Peter asked suspiciously.

Before Neal answered, his other phone started ringing, causing Peter to look even more suspicious. Hoping to put off the oncoming conversation for as long as possible, he quickly answered his own phone.

"Hey, June, how are you?"

* * *

Peter listened to the one-sided conversation between Neal and June, wondering what was going on with Neal. He had noticed his partner acting rather strangely ever since he had returned from his break that afternoon. Peter was an expert in all things Neal Caffrey, so he knew that the young man was up to something. His suspicions were even more validated when Neal refused to answer the strange phone he was carrying. _Since when did the kid start carrying two phones?_

Minutes later, Neal said goodbye to June and place his phone back into his jacket pocket. Peter could see the young man staring out the window, obviously hoping that he wouldn't question him about the presence of the second phone. Peter, of course, wasn't about to accommodate that hope.

"Why do you have two phones, Neal?" he asked, watching out of the corner of his eye as Neal continued to stare out the window.

"It's not against the law to have two phones, is it, Peter?" Neal asked innocently.

"No," Peter admitted. "But, it is cause for concern when _you_ have two phones, Neal. I'm guessing that the second phone is an untraceable burner phone, right?"

"If you must know, it's from an acquaintance that wishes to remain untraceable."

"What's Mozzie up to, Neal?" Peter asked. "Usually, he just calls your real phone."

Neal thought it best to let Peter think that the phone was from Mozzie. That way there wouldn't be any other questions. "Sometimes you just can't explain how his mind works, you know. You just have to go with it."

Neal was relieved to see the resigned look that Peter usually wore when he realized that he wasn't going to get the answers he wanted from him. Taking the opportunity, Neal quickly changed the subject. "So, what's for dinner?"

* * *

Dinner was pleasant, even though Neal continued to feel nervous and off balance. He enjoyed the small talk that went around the table, usually spurred on by Elizabeth. They talked about the new recipe she had tried and the upcoming art museum opening she was hired for. Neal was surprised when Peter agreed to let him attend the opening with Elizabeth, even though it was outside his radius. He wasn't surprised, however, at the strange looks Peter kept throwing at him throughout dinner.

By the time they were done eating and the cleanup was taken care of, Neal was ready to go home. He offered to call a cab, but Elizabeth and Peter both insisted that Peter drove him home. Neal wasn't looking forward to the ride home, at all.

Fortunately, though, the ride home was just as pleasant as dinner, filled mostly with small talk from Peter. Unfortunately, that all changed when they pulled up in front of June's house.

Just as Neal started to open the door, Peter grabbed his arm. "Hey, wait just a few minutes, okay? I need to talk to you about something."

Neal barely restrained himself from groaning at those words, as he dropped his arm and turned to face his partner. "About?"

Peter looked like he was trying to fortify himself for the conversation to come. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but you've been acting off since this afternoon. Care to tell me what's bothering you?"

"I've not been acting _off_," Neal answered.

"Yes, you have. Ever since you came back from your break, I could tell that something was bothering you. Did something happen?"

"Peter, I'm fine, okay? I told you that I must have eaten something bad. I wasn't feeling well, but I'm fine now."

Peter definitely didn't look convinced. "Look, Neal, these last few months have been hard on all of us, but I feel like they've served a good purpose, too. With everything that's happened, Elizabeth and I have finally realized how much you mean to us. You are a part of our family and that means that you can come to us with anything. If you need help with something, I'm here for you, okay? I don't want you to do anything careless or stupid."

For a few seconds, Neal actually thought about telling Peter everything. About the bonds, the meeting with Dmitri, the threat to Elizabeth. But, at the last second, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He knew that he was making a mistake, but he just couldn't do it. What he wanted most in the world was to keep Dmitri as far away from the Burkes as he possibly could. That meant that he had to deal with this on his own.

"I appreciate that, Peter, and I promise I won't be careless."

It didn't escape Peter's attention that Neal didn't say that he wouldn't do anything stupid, though. After a few more words, they said their goodbyes and Peter watched as Neal got out of the car and went inside the house. He knew that the kid was up to something, but other than keeping a close eye on him, which he was already doing, there wasn't much more he could do.

* * *

Once Neal was upstairs in his apartment, he poured himself a glass of wine and sat down at his table, putting Dmitri's phone in front of him. He hoped that the missed call wouldn't spur Dmitri into premature action. _The man had to realize that he wasn't always in the position to answer a phone call from a kidnapping, murdering, thieving sociopath, right?_

He wasn't sure how long he had been at the table when the phone finally rang. He could probably make an educated guess of at least two hours, though, by the fact that he was now on his fifth glass of wine. Suddenly realizing that his head felt fuzzy and the rest of his body comfortably numb, he couldn't believe how stupid he was to drink so much. _What if Dmitri wanted to meet tonight? What if the man insisted on him pulling off a job of some kind?_

He quickly picked up the phone, only to have it drop back to the table when his fingers didn't work the way they were supposed to. When he picked up the phone again, he made sure to move slowly and deliberately, grasping it with both hands.

"I'm here," he croaked into the phone.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were avoiding my calls," Dmitri's low voice said.

"I couldn't answer your first call," Neal explained. "Peter was sitting right next to me in the car."

"You're lucky I was feeling magnanimous. Victor wanted to pay a visit to Mrs. Burke, but I talked him out of it. Lucky woman….."

"Leave her out of this," Neal yelled into the phone. "I mean it, Dmitri. If you really want me to do whatever it is you're planning, you'd better leave her alone!"

"It seems we see things a little differently, Neal. I think the only way you'll agree to do what I want is if you want to keep her safe. So, my words remain true. Do what I ask or I'll pay a little visit to Elizabeth Burke."

Neal took a deep breath, trying to curb the nausea that was building in his stomach. "What do you want, Dmitri?" he finally asked.

"There are two things I require of you, Neal. Two very important things that I don't wish to discuss over the phone. So, what I want is for you to meet me in four hours. I'll text you the address. Come alone, Neal. And you'll do good not to tell anyone about any of this."

"Wait!" Neal yelled. "Dmitri!"

But, it was too late. The man had already ended the call, leaving Neal to wonder just what he was getting himself into. The last thing he wanted was to put himself back into Dmitri's abusive reach, but he had no choice. He had to do it to protect Peter and Elizabeth. A few minutes later, he received a text from Dmitri and he was relieved to see that the address was well within his two mile radius. _At least, that was something to be happy about._

* * *

The ride home was very unsettling to Peter. He knew that there was something more going on with Neal and he had a sudden desire to turn the car around and return to Neal's apartment, demanding that the young man come clean about everything.

Of course, he didn't turn the car around because he knew that doing something like that was more likely to drive the kid even further away, rather than convince him to open up about something. Instead, he continued on his journey home, reflecting back on the day's events the whole way.

Once he arrived home, Peter walked in to find Elizabeth waiting for him. "Hi, hon. I thought you were going to take a bath and read for a while."

"I tried," Elizabeth answered. "I couldn't seem to relax, though."

Peter sat down next to his wife and pulled her legs across his lap. He began massaging her feet and calves, hoping to relax her a little. "What has you so tense, El?"

"Neal," she said simply.

_Of course, it's Neal, _he thought. _When is anything not about Neal?_

"Peter, I'm worried about him. There was something off about him tonight. I mean, on the outside he looked fine, but something about him just didn't feel right."

"I know, hon," Peter said. "I felt the same way, but when I questioned him, he said that everything was okay. I'll just have to keep a closer eye on him for a while."

"Do you think that will be enough?" Elizabeth asked. "Maybe we should make him come back home for a few weeks."

"El, you know he's not going to want to do that. He's happy being back at his apartment."

"_Make_ him come home," Elizabeth said. "You're his handler, so he'll _have _to do what you say."

"I can't do that, Elizabeth. He's a grown man. Besides, if I forced him to come back, he would probably resent me for it. I'm not willing to take that risk."

"But, Peter, I know there's something going on with him. And you know how he is. Whatever it is, he's going to do something to put himself in danger again. We can't allow that!"

"My hands are tied, El. We're going to have to trust him on this."

Elizabeth wasn't happy with Peter's answer, but she had to learn to deal with it. Pulling her feet off of his lap, she suddenly stood up. "You had better keep a close eye on him, Peter Burke. Do you hear me?"

"I will, El. I promise."

* * *

Neal drank several cups of coffee before lying down on his bed and trying to rest. Of course, with his blood pumping such high levels of caffeine, he could only toss anxiously under the blankets. He figured that it would take him about fifteen minutes to get to the address that Dmitri sent him, if he called a cab. That meant that he had almost three hours to figure out exactly what he was going to do.

Several different times, he found himself reaching for his phone, wanting to call Peter for help. Each time, he caught himself and put the phone back down. He was so torn between trusting his partner to help him and wanting to protect the man. He knew that after everything was done and over with, Peter would be disappointed in him for going it alone, but at the moment he didn't think he had a choice. Peter's safety was more important than his own and if he had to deal with Peter's anger and disappointment in order to protect the man, then that's what he had to do.

At one o'clock, he rolled out of bed and quickly changed his clothes, opting to put on a pair of dark khakis, a lightweight sweater, and a pair of sturdy boots he found in the back of the closet. He was glad it was dark out, because the boots definitely weren't anything he would usually wear. Grabbing a light jacket, he opened his door and walked as quietly as he could down the stairs. Just as he reached the bottom, he was surprised to see June coming out of the kitchen.

"Neal? Where are you going? It's one o'clock in the morning," June admonished.

Neal plastered on his most charming smile as he turned to look at her. "I know, June. I can't seem to sleep, so I thought I'd take a quick walk. I won't be long."

"Neal, I don't think that's a good idea," June said. "Why don't I make you a cup of hot tea instead?"

"Thank you, June, but I really feel like taking a walk. I just need to think over a few things."

June gave him the sternest look she could muster, which was pretty stern, in Neal's opinion. "Be careful, young man. And don't be gone long."

"I won't," Neal answered as he bent down and gave June a kiss on the cheek. Without another word, he turned and walked out the door.

* * *

Peter was having a hard time sleeping, so when his phone rang, he was able to answer it on the first ring. He didn't even look to see who was calling, so he was surprised to hear June's voice. Once he realized who it was, he sat up in bed, concern shooting through him like a bullet.

"June? Is everything alright?"

"I'm not sure, Peter. Neal just left the house. He said that he couldn't sleep and that he wanted to take a walk and think things over. I'm worried about him, Peter. He's been acting a little strange."

"I thought he was acting a little strange tonight, too," Peter admitted. "Thanks for calling me, June. I'll pull up his tracking data and keep an eye on him, okay?"

After reassuring June that he would keep his eye on Neal, he hung up the phone, climbed out of bed, and grabbed his laptop. Within minutes, he had pulled up Neal's tracking data and watched as it moved slowly within a few blocks of June's house. As he watched Neal wandering further and further away, he thought about calling the young man to check on him. He knew, of course, that Neal would feed him the same story he had fed June, but Peter wanted the truth. He also knew that the only way to get to the truth was to find out where Neal was going. After quickly throwing on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, Peter woke Elizabeth to tell her what he was doing. Minutes later, he was getting into his car with Neal's tracking data pulled up on his phone.

It was time to figure out what was going on.

* * *

Neal decided to walk to the meeting, rather than taking a cab, wanting to take some time to prepare himself to face Dmitri again. He hated how the man had the ability to make him feel so defenseless and vulnerable, even though he was a grown man. Nobody besides Dmitri had ever held that power over him and it made him angry.

As he walked along, he had a sudden urge to call Peter. The urge was so strong that Neal was finding it hard to shake. Peter was like a lifeline to him and if Neal ever needed a lifeline, it was when he was facing Silas Dmitri. Knowing that Peter was nearby would give Neal the confidence he needed to get through the impending meeting. Having Peter nearby would give Neal a safety net, in case things went sour. Having Peter nearby would bolster his confidence.

Neal suddenly stopped walking and pulled out his phone. Without hesitation, he dialed Peter's number and waited for the man to answer. He figured that Peter was asleep and that it would take several rings before he woke up, so he was surprised when the man answered on the second ring.

"Neal! Are you okay?" Peter yelled breathlessly.

"I'm fine, Peter. Are _you_ okay?" Neal asked.

"What are you doing, Neal? Why are you walking around New York in the middle of the night?"

Neal was shocked by those words. "How did you know I was out walking around, Peter?"

"June called. She told me that you left the house. Neal, it's almost two o'clock in the morning. What are you doing?"

After a long hesitation, where if it hadn't been from the heavy breathing on Neal's end, Peter would have thought the call was disconnected, Neal finally answered. "I need your help, Peter."

Peter let out the breath he had been holding. "I'm on my way, Neal. Just stay where you are and don't do anything stupid, okay? I'll be there in ten minutes."

Neal felt relief shoot through him at the calmness in Peter's voice. "I should have called you earlier, Peter. I wanted to, but I didn't want to involve you."

"You should have," Peter answered. "I'll always help you if I can, Neal."

"I know," Neal said quietly. "It's just hard to convince myself of that sometimes."

"We'll have to work on that," Peter said with a small laugh.

When Neal grew silent on the other end, Peter started talking about whatever subject he could think of. He told Neal about going to baseball camp when he was twelve and about his dad teaching him how to drive. He talked about meeting Elizabeth and how he knew right away that he was going to marry her. He talked about some of the cases they were working on at work and how he needed to fix the garbage disposal at home. Eventually, he pulled into a small parking lot and parked his car. He could see Neal in the distance and relief flooded him.

Neal was leaning against a small warehouse that looked to be deserted. In fact, the whole area looked deserted. Peter climbed out of the car and took off walking towards Neal, taking in the way the young man's shoulders were slumped in defeat. When he was less than fifty yards away from Neal, he heard something moving behind him. Before he could turn around to see what it was, he felt a blinding pain shoot through the back of his head. The last thing he heard as he was falling to the ground was Neal's voice screaming his name. Then, everything went dark and he fell into a blissful unconsciousness.

* * *

Neal watched as Peter made his way over to him, trying to quell the nervousness that had built up inside of him. With each step Peter took, the nervousness increased. However, Neal also noticed a feeling of peace enveloping him. He knew that Peter would be upset at the things he had been hiding, but he also knew that the man would get past that. As he watched him drawing closer and closer, he was suddenly aware of shadows and movement off to the side and a little bit behind the man.

Neal pulled himself away from the building he was leaning on, every fiber of his being coming to life at the sight of what was happening. Before he could even take a single step, he watched in horror as two men approached Peter from behind. He knew the exact moment that Peter was made aware that someone was behind him, too. He took off running towards his partner, but before he even made it a few feet, someone grabbed him from behind.

Neal struggled against whoever was holding him, trying to keep his attention on what was happening to Peter. He was powerless to help his friend, and as he fought to escape his captor, he watched as something slammed into the back of Peter's head. As he fought to get away, he yelled out Peter's name and then watched helplessly as Peter slumped to the ground.

Suddenly, he felt his body being jerked backwards and he wasn't surprised to find himself face to face with Silas Dmitri, who was looking at him coldly. Silas stepped forward and backhanded Neal across the cheek, causing him to stagger backwards. Whoever was holding him kept him from falling down from the force of the blow.

"I wouldn't have had to do that, boy, if you had just done what you were told," Dmitri growled. "I told you to come alone, so you only have yourself to blame when Agent Burke pays the price for your disobedience."

Without another word, Silas turned on his heel and started walking away, leaving Neal to the mercy of whoever was holding him. Seconds later, Neal was dragged forward and thrown, unceremoniously, into the back seat of a sedan.

* * *

Author's note: Uh oh….. it seems our boys are in a little bit of trouble. I wish someone would do something about Dmitri, don't you?

What do you all think about Neal finally asking Peter for help? Maybe he's finally learning that he doesn't have to deal with everything alone anymore? Maybe he finally realizes that Peter won't let him down?

Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing. I hope you all are still enjoying the story.


	23. Pain Is All I Have To Remind Me

What He Does Best

Chapter 23

* * *

Peter woke up with a pounding headache and an acute sense of disorientation. Before he opened his eyes, he tried to make sense of where he was. He knew that he wasn't lying in his own bed. In fact, he wasn't on any bed at all. He felt the hardness beneath him and realized that he was lying on a cold hard, floor.

When he opened his eyes, the bright light above him caused stabbing pains to shoot through his head. He quickly closed his eyes again, eager to stop the pain that was threatening to do him in. Since he couldn't open his eyes at the moment, he stayed as still as he could and listened to the sounds around him. Or, rather, the absence of sounds around him.

As far as he could tell, he was alone in whatever room he was in. That bought a little sense of relief to him, knowing that he wasn't in immediate danger. It also gave him time to get his brain working. Despite Neal's frequent teasing, he really did have good deductive reasoning, so as he lay on the cold floor, he deducted that whatever trouble Neal had gotten into now involved him, as well. Of course, it didn't take a genius to figure that out.

Even though his head felt like it was exploding, Peter made himself concentrate on what had happened. He remembered June calling and telling him that Neal was wandering around New York at one o'clock in the morning and then he remembered Neal calling him and actually asking him for help_. The kid actually asked for help!_

Peter remembered meeting Neal at an abandoned warehouse and walking towards the kid, wondering what kind of help he needed. He remembered hearing something behind him and then that was it. His next memory was of waking up just minutes ago.

Not knowing what else to do, he tried to open his eyes again, choosing to do it more slowly this time. Even though it still hurt, he was at least able to keep them open a little longer. Looking around, he could tell that he was in a small room, not much bigger than the walk-in closet he shared with Elizabeth. Other than the door on one wall, there were no other points of entry/exit. He was hoping that maybe there was a window or a loose tile in the ceiling, but there wasn't. The only piece of furniture in the room was a small table that held a lone bottle of water.

Feeling better once he knew a little more about his surroundings, he paused to listen again. This time, he could hear a gentle susurration somewhere beyond the door. Listening closely, he could tell that there were two different tones, indicating that there were two people talking just outside his door.

Just as he heard the door handle turning, Peter pulled himself into a sitting position, not wanting to give whoever it was any more of an advantage over him. He leaned against the wall as he waited for the door to fully open to whoever was coming in. Seconds later, a man about the same age as he was, walked into the room. The man was a few inches shorter than Peter, but a few pounds heavier. He had a head full of hair and the slightest evidence of stubble. Peter noticed immediately that the man was dressed in designer clothes and was wearing what looked to be a real Rolex watch. His fingernails looked manicured and he had a big ring on one hand_. Obviously, the man had expensive tastes._

Without wasting any time, the man walked over to the table, grabbed the water bottle, and handed it to Peter.

"Agent Burke, you should drink some water. It's important to stay hydrated."

Peter ignored the proffered water, knocking the man's hand away much like he was always knocking Neal's hands away from the radio controls. "Where's Neal?" he demanded.

"All of that in good time, Agent Burke. For now, I think it's time I introduced myself."

"I know who you are, Dmitri," Peter growled. "Now, tell me where Neal is?"

Dmitri smiled down at Peter. "I think we need to get something straight, Agent Burke. I'm the one giving orders here, not you. You are at my mercy and it will do you well to remember that."

Peter was about to answer, but Dmitri cut him off. "Neal is just a few rooms away, Burke. And, as long as he does what I ask of him, he will be unharmed."

Peter's stomach dropped at Dmitri's words, knowing how uncooperative Neal could be when he wanted to be. He knew the kid had no sense of self-preservation, which worried him immensely. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Dmitri's next words.

"Why do you do it, Agent Burke? Why do you put up with his antics? Haven't you figured out yet that he's nothing but trouble?"

"He's more than that," Peter growled. "If you had taken the time to get to know him, you would have realized that. He's smart and he's a good man."

"Is he?" Dmitri asked with an evil smile. "I'm not sure you would say that if you knew the truth of him, Agent Burke. If you knew the things he's done."

"I do know the truth of him," Peter spat. "More than you ever did, Dmitri. Or, ever will."

"I'm not so sure about that, but I guess we'll have to wait and see. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some business to attend to."

Dmitri was just opening the door when Peter spoke again. "If you hurt him in any way, Dmitri, I swear that you will suffer more than you've ever thought possible."

Dmitri laughed as he closed the door.

* * *

Neal had no idea where he was, but worse than that, he had no idea where Peter was. The last time he had seen his partner, the man had been unconscious. He had watched as the man was thrown into another car in front of the one he was in. He had watched as the car drove off and was relieved when the sedan he was in followed suit. Never taking his eyes off of the other car, Neal tried to figure out a way out of the situation.

Once they finally stopped, Neal watched as two men carried the still unconscious form of his friend into a deserted building. Neal was pulled out of the car and forced to follow Dmitri into the same building, but once inside, he quickly lost sight of Peter. Dmitri led them into an empty room and Neal was suddenly shoved into a corner, his shoulder colliding with the cement wall. Turning quickly around, he lunged at Dmitri, but was easily caught by Victor who just shoved him back to the wall.

"That's enough, Neal," Dmitri stated evenly. "I expect better from you."

"You have no right to expect anything from me, Dmitri," Neal snarled.

"Oh, but I do, boy," the man answered. "If my memory is correct, you took something of great value from me all those years ago."

"I didn't take anything from you," Neal spat. "The bond belonged to me, Dmitri. I made it, so it belonged to me."

"I'm afraid that's not how it all works, Neal. The way I see it, I bought all the supplies for you and provided you with the original bond to work from, so that makes it mine."

"I still didn't take it," Neal argued. "Evidently, you found the bond, and evidently you had someone figure out a way to print more of them. So, why exactly do you need me?"

"I think you know the answer to that. We encountered a little road block when we tried to cash in some of the bonds. For some reason, the FBI is investigating the validity of the bonds and, although they're perfect, I don't think they will fool the FBI."

"You're probably right, so if I were you, I'd scrap the whole idea," Neal suggested.

"But that's just it, Neal…you're not me. I haven't invested years of my life into this just to give it up at the first sign of trouble. I need a solution to my problem and you're that solution."

"I can't help you, Dmitri. You're going to have to come up with a different plan."

"I have a different plan and it involves you. But, before we get into the specifics of that, there is something else I need you to do."

"I'm not doing anything illegal for you, Dmitri. You're going to have to find someone else to do your dirty work."

Neal took a step backward when he saw the look of rage that came over his step-father's face. _Maybe he had finally gone too far. Maybe he should be a little more careful with how he handled a man that has proven himself to be malicious and evil._

"You _WILL_ do this for me, boy," Dmitri thundered. "I don't care if it's the last thing you do on this earth, you _WILL_ do it!"

Neal didn't respond in any way to Dmitri's murderous rant. Instead, he waited for the man to reel himself back in, to reclaim his control. It took several minutes, but eventually Dmitri turned back to Neal.

"You're mother has been asking for you," he said tersely.

That was the last thing Neal expected to come out of the man's mouth. He was so surprised by Dmitri's words that he almost asked the man to repeat them. Instead, he simply waited for the man to continue.

"She's not doing well, Neal. The doctors say that she has just a few weeks left…..maybe a month. Most of the time, she has no idea who I am. Most of the time, she doesn't remember anything about our life together. She barely knows herself. But, every time I visit her, she asks for you. Every single time. Without fail!"

Neal had no idea what to say. He had visited his mother a few times when she was first admitted to the long-term care facility, but it had been years since the last visit. He vividly remembered how that last visit had played out. At that time, Tessa still retained most of her faculties. She was prone to massive mood swings that vacillated between complete and total apathy to severe, overwhelming manic states. Neal never knew which state she would be in when he visited.

In order to avoid running into Dmitri at one of his visits, Neal paid off one of the facility's administrators, instructing her to call him whenever his step-father visited. Neal would be sure to visit a few days later, comfortable in the knowledge that the man wouldn't be back for a month.

On his last visit, he arrived to find his mother in one of her manic phases. Unfortunately, she was also acutely paranoid. Neal signed in, obviously using the name Danny Brooks, and followed one of the assistants down the hall to his mother's room. Before stepping into her room, he could hear her yelling at one of the staff members. For a single second, he thought about turning around and walking back out the door, never to return again. Instead, he stepped into the room, bracing himself for what was sure to be an uncomfortable, embarrassing event.

Once inside the room, he cleared his throat and called out to his mother. Immediately, Tessa stopped her ranting and turned to face her son. "What are _you_ doing here?" she snarled at him.

"I came to see you, mom," Neal said with a smile, hoping to calm her down a little. "I missed you."

"Don't smile at me like that! Your father always smiled at me like that!"

Neal immediately stopped smiling, knowing how upset she became whenever he did anything remotely similar to his father. "How have you been, mom? It looks like you got your hair done. It looks great."

Tessa stepped closer to her son, causing him to tense up a little. "You're such a liar. Just like your father. You're just a no good liar."

Neal tried to change the subject, hoping to steer her into more neutral territory, but Tessa wouldn't let him.

"Why are you here? Did _he_ send you? What does he want?"

"No one sent me here, mom. I came because I wanted to see you."

"I don't believe you. You're just like your father, always wanting something from me, always lying to me, always thinking you're smarter than me. Well, guess what? I'm done with you! I don't need you here anymore. Go away and don't come back!"

Neal stared at his mother, wanting desperately to believe that she didn't mean any of what she was saying. He didn't make a move to leave, which seemed to infuriate Tessa even more.

"What did I just say?! Get out of here, Danny! Leave me alone!" she screamed.

Unfortunately, Neal's next move was the worst thing he could have done in the current situation. Instead of leaving, like his mom was telling him to, he stepped forward and reached out to her, hoping to take her hand in his. Afterwards, he knew that he had made a huge mistake with her, but at the moment, it seemed like the right thing to do. Neal wasn't thinking that his reaching out to her could be considered an attack on her part, so he was caught completely off guard when she pitched forward to him. He was caught even more off guard when she swung her arms at him, hitting him across the cheek and jaw, then pounding her fists against his ears and head. By the time he was able to extricate himself from her punches, he had a bloody nose and a rapidly swelling eye. He had severe ringing in his left ear and his lip was swelling, as well.

The worst part, though, were the words that were pouring out of his mother's mouth. He had forgotten how much it hurt to hear his mother call him worthless, useless, and pathetic. He had forgotten the pain he felt when she told him that he had ruined her life, that because of him, she could never be truly happy.

Neal had left the hospital that day and had never gone back. There were times when he felt guilty, knowing that it was because of his mother's mental illness that she acted the way she did, but he didn't have the strength to go back. He knew he was being a coward, an awful son, but he just couldn't bring himself to face her again.

And now, Dmitri expected him to do exactly that.

"Why would she be asking for me?" Neal asked, knowing that she had never done that before.

"I don't know," Dmitri answered. "All I know is that she does…..every time I visit her. She begs me to bring you to her, Neal."

"That doesn't make any sense," Neal said. "As long as I can remember, she's never cared if I was there or not. So, why now?"

"Like I said, she's dying. The last time I visited her, she thought I was your father and she kept talking about you and how they were going to throw you a third birthday party. She's living more and more in the past and it kills me, but I would do anything she asked of me."

"I don't want to see her, Silas. What good will it do her if she's expecting a three year old boy and she gets me? It can't be good to confuse her in such a way."

"She's constantly asking for you, Neal, and I aim to give her what she wants. End of story."

Neal knew that there was no way he was getting out of this one, so he tried to use it to his advantage. "Fine," he said. "But, only if you let Peter go."

Dmitri laughed at him. "You don't get it, do you, boy?! You don't get to make deals with me. I'm the one in charge here, not you. I have the upper hand, especially now that your Agent Burke has joined us. I have a feeling that he can be a very powerful bargaining chip for me."

"Just don't hurt him, Dmitri. I swear, if you hurt him I'll make you suffer."

Dmitri laughed again. "Hmmmm…. That's exactly what Agent Burke said to me."

* * *

A few minutes later, Dmitri left Neal to try to get some rest. Neal looked around, not surprised to see absolutely nothing in the room other than a small table with a water bottle sitting on it. He picked up the water and made his way back to the corner. Sinking down to the floor, Neal took a few sips of water before closing his eyes. He knew that there was little chance of him actually sleeping, but his eyes were burning with fatigue. He knew he should be trying to find a way to get to Peter, but at the moment he was utterly drained.

Just before he finally fell into a restless sleep, he thought about the fact that his mother was dying and was asking for him. He hated the fact that, even after all she had said and done to him through the years, knowing that she had actually asked for him brought him the tiniest smidgen of hope.

* * *

The next morning, Neal woke up to someone pouring cold water over his head. He sat up spluttering and gasping for air, trying desperately to catch his breath. After several long seconds of coughing, he finally regained control of his breathing and looked up to find Victor sneering at him.

"Why the hell did you do that?!" Neal yelled at the man he was quickly learning to hate as much as Dmitri.

"It's time to get up," Victor snarled. "Dmitri wants to leave in twenty minutes."

Neal climbed to his feet, not surprised to see Victor holding a set of zip ties in his hand. Without saying a word, the man walked behind Neal and savagely pulled his arms back behind him. Neal cried out at the pain that ripped through his previously injured shoulder. He had a feeling that when this was all done, he would be needing more physical therapy.

Once Victor was satisfied that Neal wasn't going to escape the zip ties, he pulled Neal out of the room. As they walked down the short corridor, Neal made note of each door they passed. He noticed that there was only one door that had any light shining under the door frame and figured that that must be where Peter was being kept. Of course, he wasn't really sure that they would give Peter a room with a light, actually.

At the end of the short corridor, there was a longer corridor with several doors shooting off of it, as well. Neal made a mental note of how many doors there were as they passed them. At the end of the long corridor, there was an opening that led into a large room. Victor pushed Neal into the room, nearly knocking him off of his feet with the vicious push. Fortunately, Neal's balance was better than most other men's.

"Good morning, Neal," Dmitri said cheerfully. "Did you sleep well?"

Neal rolled his eyes at the stupid question. "What do you think?! I slept on a cold, hard floor, so no, I didn't sleep well."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Dmitri answered. "If everything goes well today, I'll see that your accommodations are a little more comfortable. So, why don't we get going? It will take us an hour to get to the airfield and then another two hours to fly to Chicago. If we leave now, we can be there before lunch."

"Wait a minute," Neal said. "I need to eat something, Dmitri. And I could really use a bathroom break."

Dmitri looked like he was going to deny both requests, but he changed his mind. "Victor, take him to the bathroom and don't let him out of your sight. Travis, go rustle him up something to eat."

Dmitri sat at the table and waited for Neal to return. He was anxious to get started, but he knew that the kid was right. He did need to eat and it wouldn't do any good to deprive the man the ability to take care of necessities. He had been sitting there for almost five minutes when Victor and Neal returned. The former had a disgusted look on his face, while the latter was all smiles. Dmitri was somewhat familiar with the smugness of the smile on Neal's face and he suddenly wanted to slap it right off.

"What happened?" he asked Victor.

Victor's face immediately flushed, causing Dmitri's interest to spike. Turning to Neal, he asked the young man what had happened.

"Nothing happened," Neal laughed. "Victor was reluctant to undo the zip ties, so I asked him to unzip my pants for me. Once he did that, I told him that I needed help to… you know….to position myself appropriately. He didn't seem to want to do that, so I had no choice but to get out of the zip ties myself."

Dmitri nearly laughed at the look on Victor's face. "You were able to get out of the ties?" he asked incredulously. "Really?"

"Yep," Neal answered smugly. "Of course, Victor didn't think it could be done, but it really isn't that hard. And I really needed to use the bathroom. Besides, I think that deep down he really wanted to assist me."

Victor angrily stepped towards Neal, bringing his fist up and readying a punch, but Dmitri stopped him. "Victor, back off. He's just trying to rile you up and it seems to be working. Don't let him get to you."

Victor brought his fist down and took a few steps backwards. If looks could kill, though, Neal knew that he would have been struck down ten different times already.

"Tie his hands in front and make sure they're tight enough," Dmitri instructed Victor. "That way, he won't need your help in the bathroom and you won't have to feed him his breakfast."

Neal laughed at Dmitri's words, but didn't miss the look of pure hatred that Victor sent his way. He made a mental note to watch his back whenever Victor was around. Victor cut off the ties that he had replaced in the bathroom and moved Neal's hands around to the front. Neal winced in pain when the man brutally cinched the ties down as tight as he could, effectively cutting off a significant amount of Neal's circulation. He opted not to mention it at the moment, though. Instead, he sat down at the table and awkwardly started feeding himself the eggs, bacon, and toast that had been placed before him. He knew it was a good idea to fortify himself before facing his mother.

Once he was done eating, Dmitri motioned for him to stand up. Neal stood up and turned to face his step-father.

"Let's go," Dmitri said as he motioned for Neal to start walking.

Neal took a few steps and then stopped. Victor gave him a push in the small of his back, but Neal held his ground. "What about Peter?" he asked Dmitri.

"He'll be fine. My men have been instructed not to hurt him in any way."

Neal was relieved to hear that, but it wasn't enough to satisfy him. "He needs to eat and I'm sure he's probably needing to take a little bathroom break, as well. Tell your men to make sure that happens." He knew he was pushing it with his demands, but he didn't care. He was surprised by Dmitri's response, though.

"You heard the man," he said to the man named Travis and to another man that Neal didn't know. "Make sure Burke's physical needs are met."

Dmitri turned and walked out of the large room, expecting Neal to follow suit. Neal was relieved to know that he had managed to do something to make Peter's stay a little more comfortable. With nothing else to do at the moment, he followed Dmitri without needing to be pushed along by Victor.

He wasn't ready to face his mother, but he knew that he didn't have any choice. Dmitri was adamant that Neal was to go to Tessa, and he knew that he couldn't fight him on that. The trip to the airport and the flight to Chicago went by too fast for Neal. Fortunately, Dmitri had noticed that the ties around Neal's wrists were too tight and had ordered Victor to remove them. Before Neal was mentally ready, they were standing outside of Tessa's hospital room. Neal tried to prepare himself for what he was about to see, but it was hard when he had no idea of what to expect.

As the door to Tessa's room swung open, Neal was taken aback by the sight of the frail, weakened woman lying in the bed. She didn't look at all like the woman that had relentlessly punched him the last time he was there. In fact, this woman looked barely able to raise her arms off of the bed.

The sound of the door opening woke Tessa up and she slowly turned her head to see who was there. For a brief second when she looked at him, Neal thought that Tessa had recognized him. That notion was quickly swept away when she spoke.

"James? What are you doing here? How did you find us?" Seconds later, she was looking frantically around the room. "Neal?" she cried out hysterically. "Neal, where are you?!"

Turning back to look at Neal, she started crying desperately. "What have you done with him, James? Where's Neal? Where's my baby?"

Neal couldn't take it any longer, so he quickly turned on his heel and ran out the door. He didn't get far, thanks to Dmitri's men, but once he was outside of the room, he collapsed bonelessly to the floor. Hearing his mother calling out for him like that was almost too much to bear. Adding to that was the fact that she actually thought that he was James. She didn't recognize him for who he really was. She didn't recognize her own son.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMmm

Authors note: Whew! Poor Neal's having a really hard time, isn't he? His emotions are all over the place, but who can blame him?! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and are still enjoying the story as a whole. Writing makes me happy, as do your reviews (a blatant, not so subtle hint that I would love it if you would review the story/chapter.)

Thank you all so much for your patience. Thank you for reading as well.


	24. We All Want Love, We All Want Honor

What He Does Best

Chapter 24

* * *

Author's note: I just wanted to give you all fair warning that there is a character death in this chapter. Things like this should always be forewarned, right? I hope you enjoy the chapter.

* * *

Neal wasn't sure how long he sat on the floor, surrounded by Dmitri's men. He could hear his mother and Dmitri talking in the next room, but other than a few distressed words from Tessa, he couldn't make out what they were saying.

Eventually, Dmitri walked out of Tessa's room. By that time, Neal had moved himself from the floor to a small waiting area off to the side. He had been sitting in an uncomfortable, outdated chair for at least twenty minutes, lost in thought as he stared out of a grimy window.

Hearing someone approaching, he looked up to see Dmitri with a strange look on his face. For a single second, Neal felt a sense of pity for the man. It was obvious that Dmitri was upset over whatever had just happened. And if there was one thing Neal was confident about when it came to Dmitri, it was the fact that the man really did love Tessa.

"She's resting," Dmitri said flatly.

"Good," Neal answered. "Can we please get out of here?"

"NO!" Dmitri yelled. "We're staying here and we're going to try again when she wakes up."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Neal tried to reason with Dmitri, but the man was unreasonable. "It will only upset her again."

"When she wakes up, you're going to go back in there and you're going to talk to her."

"She doesn't want to see me, Dmitri. She wants to see three year old me. It's not going to be good for her to think that I'm James again," Neal argued.

"We're trying again."

Dmitri sat down next to Neal after sending a few of his men off for coffee and food. "She doesn't have much time left," he said in a soft voice. "The doctor thinks it could be any time now."

Neal didn't know what to say to that, so he just stared out the window again. His head was spinning with a thousand different emotions and for the first time in a long time he felt desperately alone. As he sat there, he longed for the presence of Elizabeth or June, knowing that they would have the words to calm his stormy soul. Even Peter, with his quiet strength, or Mozzie, with his endearing quirkiness, would be able to stop him from feeling like a lost little boy.

Instead, he had to make do with a man that had made his teenage years completely hellish.

* * *

Peter woke up to the sound of someone opening the door to the little room he was in. He hadn't slept much throughout the night, so he wasn't surprised to find that he was still exhausted. Nor was he surprised to find that his bladder was painfully full.

The door opened to reveal a young man that entered the room without hesitation. Once he had the door fully opened, he motioned for Peter to get up. Peter had to hold on to the wall as he climbed to his feet, because the wave of dizziness that shot through him threatened to make him fall back to the floor.

Once he was fully standing, though, the dizziness receded and he was able to walk without difficulty. He followed the young man out the door and down a corridor, wondering the whole time if Neal was behind one of the doors he was passing.

Eventually, they made their way into a large room and Peter's stomach immediately rumbled at the smell of breakfast. The young man stopped in front of him and motioned for Peter to take a seat at the nearest table, but Peter had more pressing needs to attend to.

"I need to use the bathroom," he said simply, watching as the young man looked over to another man standing off to the side. Peter immediately noticed the gun that was sticking out of the waistband of the other man's pants.

"Take him to the bathroom, Gavin," the young man said. "The boss said we had to see to his physical needs." Turning back to Peter, he continued. "Don't do anything stupid, you hear me? The boss said we aren't to hurt you, but that's only if you cooperate with us. Otherwise, you're fair game."

Peter walked over to the man with the gun, holding his hands up in the air in surrender. _He wasn't about to try anything stupid with a full bladder, that was for sure. Once he emptied his bladder, though…_

Once he was done in the bathroom, he made his way, under armed guard, back to the table. He was happy to see the platter full of bacon and eggs that was placed in front of him. He didn't get to eat bacon all that frequently, thanks to Elizabeth's endeavors to keep him healthy.

As he ate his breakfast, he looked at his surroundings, hoping to see something that would be of benefit to him. He counted no less than ten men roaming around what looked like an abandoned warehouse. Since he had spent the trip to the warehouse in an unconscious state, he had no idea how far they had driven. He had no idea if they were outside the New York City limits or still within its boundaries.

He also had no idea where Neal was. After taking a few bites of his bacon and eggs, he turned back to the young man that was standing behind him. "My name's Peter Burke," he said with a smile. "I didn't catch your name."

"You don't need to know my name," the young man said firmly.

"No, I guess I don't," Peter answered with a smile. And then, "Can you tell me if my friend's okay? He's the one that was brought in with me. Good-looking guy with dark hair and blue eyes?"

"He's with the boss today."

"With Dmitri? Where did they go?" Peter asked, knowing that there was no way the man was going to answer him.

"That's none of your business. If you're done eating, we can go back to your room. If not, turn around and shut up."

Peter obediently turned back to the table and finished eating. He didn't know for sure that they would keep feeding him, so he ate as much as he could, just in case. When he was done eating, he was pulled up from the table by the man with the gun and led back to his room. Before he was ready, he found himself alone in the tiny room again, still not sure where he was or if Neal was okay.

Not knowing what time it was, he had no idea whether anyone was yet aware that he and Neal were missing. Of course, there was always the hope that they had taken Neal outside of his radius, which would have alerted the Marshalls, but he knew that Dmitri was too smart for that. He was sure that the anklet had been removed, as well. His cell phone was conveniently missing, too, so there was no easy way for his team to track them. The only relief he felt was in knowing that his team was the best and that they wouldn't stop searching until they found them.

* * *

Neal ate a few bites of the lunch that was handed to him, but really had no appetite at all. The last thing he wanted to do was walk back into that room and face his mother again. He would rather help Dmitri with anything else he had planned before going back in there_. Hell, he'd rather go back to prison first._

Unfortunately, the time finally came when he had no choice. He watched as one of the facility's staff members approached Dmitri to tell him that Tessa was once again awake. Dmitri quickly put down the coffee he was drinking and stood up, motioning for Neal to do the same. Neal suddenly wished he hadn't taken a single bite of the food they had given him. As he followed Dmitri, he looked frantically around, wondering where the nearest bathroom was. Not able to spot it right away, he stopped suddenly and bent forward, taking in great gulps of air. Dmitri halted, as well, and waited for Neal to get himself under control.

Eventually, after taking several deep breaths, Neal was back in control. He passed a look of gratitude to Dmitri for giving him the chance to recover. Dmitri looked closely at the young man before him, noticing the paleness of his face and the light sheen of sweat on his brow.

"Neal, I'll go in first and see how she is. Don't come in until I call for you."

Neal was relieved to get even a moment's reprieve from the inevitable reunion. He watched as Dmitri walked through the door, greeting Tessa as if he hadn't just seen her an hour before. He could hear both of their voices, but couldn't really make out what they were saying. The only thing that kept him from attempting to run out of the building was the fact that Tessa seemed much calmer than she had previously.

As he stood there waiting for Dmitri to call for him, he continued to take deep breaths. Not even two minutes after the man had entered the room, he stepped back through the door.

"She's much more lucid now," he explained. "She recognized me right away."

Neal didn't think that that was necessarily a good thing. The Tessa that remembered Silas wasn't the Tessa that would welcome him with open arms. She was much more likely to start telling him how worthless and disappointing he was to her.

"If she remembers you, I don't think she'll want to see me," Neal suggested. "I'll probably just upset her."

"She's asking for you," Dmitri said.

Neal couldn't help but notice the jealousy that was evident in the man's voice. And the anger. However, he knew that Dmitri wasn't about to let him refuse to see her. Without another word, Neal shored himself up and walked into the room, preparing himself for whatever was about to happen.

Once he was inside the room, he carefully and quietly stepped over to the bed where Tessa was sitting up against a stack of pillows. She was leaning her head back against the headboard of the bed and her eyes were closed. Neal took advantage of the unexpected opportunity to really look at his mother for the first time in a long time. He was nearly breathless at the sight of her looking so fragile and wasted. Her skin was yellowed and dry and looked papery thin. Her abdomen was distended and painfully tight. Even her hair was different now….oily and thin, instead of the flowing raven tresses that he was used to seeing. In short, the woman before him held very little resemblance to the beautiful woman that he had both loved and hated at one point in his life.

Taking his eyes off of her long enough to find his way into the chair next to her bed, he looked back at her and was surprised to see her staring at him. He couldn't tell by the look on her face which version of him she was actually seeing. _Was it three year old Neal? Or teenage Danny? Or was it adult Neal?_ Her gaze was impenetrable and it took everything he had not to look away in discomfort.

She stared at him for what seemed like several minutes, but was more likely only seconds, and just as Neal was about to look away, she reached out a frail hand and grabbed one of his hands.

"Neal. You came."

Her voice was papery thin, too, and he almost didn't recognize it. He really didn't know what to say to her in response, either. Staring down at her small hand, he was surprised when she spoke again.

"I'm so glad you came, Neal. It's been such a long time and I really wanted to see you."

He could feel her eyes burning into him as she looked him over from head to toe.

"You've grown into such a handsome young man, Neal," she said, bringing her eyes back to his face.

He felt like she was peering right into his soul and he was thrown completely off guard by the whole situation. Still not having said a single word, he returned her gaze, not knowing what else to do.

"Neal, do you remember that Christmas when you got your first paint set? You were only three years old, but you were so talented. You probably don't remember this, but the week before Christmas, I found you drawing all over the wall in the kitchen. I was so angry at first, but then I looked at what you had drawn and I couldn't believe it. It was so beautiful, Neal, and you looked so proud of yourself. I remember you looked up at me and when you saw how angry I was, your happiness left out of you like air out of a popped balloon.

"I couldn't stay mad at you, but I had to do something to make sure you knew that drawing on the wall wasn't okay. So, I sent you to your room to serve a timeout. Do you remember that?"

Neal vaguely remembered getting the paint set for Christmas, but he didn't recall any of the rest. Seeing the look on his mother's face, though, made him realize that he couldn't tell her the truth. "I do, mom," he said softly. "I hated being sent to my room."

"You sure did," she laughed. "You were always afraid you were going to miss out on something important. Anyway, I remember you stomped your feet all the way up the stairs that day with the most adorable pout on your face the whole way. And do you remember what happened next?"

Neal shook his head no, causing his mother to laugh.

"Well, I went up to check on you a few minutes later, planning on telling you how much I loved your drawing, but that you shouldn't draw on the walls. I opened the door, expecting to find you sitting on your bed like you were supposed to be, but instead I found you drawing another picture on your bedroom wall. It was so hard to be firm with you, Neal, when you were looking up at me with those big blue eyes. You and your dad had the same eyes. I couldn't bring myself to punish you that day, but I remember telling you to just wait until your father got home. I'm sure you don't remember what happened when your father finally got home, but he smacked your backside three times and then made you help him scrub the walls. You were definitely not happy about any of that! But, when the two of you were done, he took you outside and let you help him wash the car. By the time you went to bed that night, you were both best friends again. "

Neal wished that he could remember that particular memory, but he couldn't. He had so few good memories of his childhood.

"Anyway," Tessa continued, "after that day, your dad and I decided to buy you the paint set for Christmas. You were so excited when you opened it up. In fact, I remember you didn't even want to open the rest of your presents. All you wanted to do was paint."

Neal watched as his mother got lost in the memory. For a few seconds, the pain that had been evident on her face seemed to fade away, and Neal once again saw the beauty in her eyes. Seconds later, though, a dark look came over her face. The next time she looked at him, he could see something different in her eyes. Something sad and miserable.

"Neal, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. You deserved so much more that what I was able to give you. You deserved so much better."

Neal was startled to see the tears streaming down his mother's face. "Mom, it's okay," he said. "You don't have to do this."

"It's not okay," Tessa cried. "I'm so sorry, baby, for the kind of mother I was. I'm so sorry for being so selfish and weak. I should have been stronger for you. I should have protected you."

Deep down, Neal wanted to agree with her. She _should have_ been stronger for him and she _should have_ protected him. She _had_ been selfish and weak. But, it was too late for that now. It didn't do either of them any good to play the _should have_ game.

"Mom, that's all in the past. There's nothing to be done about it now, so it doesn't do any good to relive it." Neal tried to convince her, but he could tell that it wasn't working.

"It is in the past, Neal, but it's also in the present," she explained. "It's all I can think about now. I know your dad is to blame for some of it, but I have to share in the blame, as well. When what he did sent us into WitSec, I told him I didn't want him to come with us. I couldn't forgive him, Neal. He ruined everything with what he did and I couldn't stand to look him in the eye anymore. Then, once he was gone and we were relocated, I couldn't look at you without seeing him. Every time I looked into your eyes, I saw James, and I wanted to scream. Every time I heard you laugh, I could hear James laughing, too, and I wanted to scream. Everything about you reminded me of him and I couldn't stand it.

"But, I should have been able to put all of that aside, Neal. I should have taken care of you and loved you the way you deserved. Instead, I ignored you. I pushed you away until you were much happier spending time with Ellen. I pushed you away until you were afraid to come to me for anything. I searched for happiness in all the wrong ways, bringing strangers into our home and not caring how you felt about it. _What kind of mother does that?"_

Neal didn't know what to say to make her feel any better. She was speaking the truth, but he truly believed that there was no point in dwelling on any of it. _What good did it do to rehash every mistake you've ever made? _

Neal watched as the anguish on his mother's tired face turned to a pleading desperation.

"Neal, forgive me, please. I need you to forgive me. For being so selfish. For not being strong enough for you. For treating you the way I did. For letting Silas treat you the way he did for all those years. I should have stepped up and protected you, but I didn't. I need you to forgive me for that. Please!"

Neal heard shuffling behind him and knew that Dmitri had heard everything his mother had just said. He was afraid to look behind him, not sure of how the man was dealing with his mother's words.

"I forgive you, mom." Neal whispered softly.

"Do you really?" Tessa asked desperately. "I have to know that you really do forgive me, Neal. For everything. I have to know that you understand how sorry I am."

"I forgive you," Neal repeated. "It's in the past, okay? We've both made mistakes, but it's all in the past, mom. We start over today."

Neal was surprised when Tessa reached up and gently wiped the tears off of his cheek. He wasn't even aware that he was crying. Tessa's next words, however, brought the tears streaming down his face anew.

"I love you, Neal. I've always loved you and I always will. You are my greatest joy, baby, and I wanted you to know that before I go."

"Mom…."

"I don't think I have much time left, Neal, but it's okay. I'm ready now." Tessa gently caressed Neal's cheek before letting her hand fall back to her side. "I'm so tired, Neal. So very tired."

Without another word, Tessa closed her eyes and her breathing slowly evened out. Neal didn't move from her side for the next several hours. He watched her sleeping, sometimes restlessly, sometimes peacefully. Silas sat on the other side of her, holding her other hand, lost in his own thoughts. Neither one of them said a word, instead choosing to maintain a silent vigil at the deathbed of a woman they both loved.

Eventually, both Neal and Silas dozed off in their chairs. It was almost one o'clock in the morning when they both woke up to someone gently calling their names. Neal sat up quickly, taking a few seconds to reorient himself to the situation. When everything came crashing back down on him, he looked at his mother, relieved to see that she was still breathing.

Dmitri went through the same motions as Neal did, although it seemed to take him a little longer to regain his focus. He also let out a sigh of relief at seeing that Tessa was still with them. Their shared peace was shattered just seconds later, though, when Tessa's nurse finally spoke.

"It's almost time," she said gently to the two of them. "Her breathing is shallow and her pulse is slowing down. It shouldn't be too much longer now."

Neal couldn't stop the tears that flowed. He wasn't ready to give her up yet. He wanted more time to talk to her about everything, to make sure that she really understood that he forgave her. That he loved her. _He needed more time._

Dmitri was holding onto Tessa's hand as if he was trying to keep her there with him. Neal was shocked by the pain he saw in Dmitri's eyes and he wondered if his eyes reflected the same. They both sat and stared at Tessa, each counting the seconds between her breaths, wondering if each breath she took would be her last.

Almost twenty-five minutes later, Tessa opened her eyes, looking up to the ceiling. Dmitri stood up and leaned over her bed, trying to look her in the eye. "Tess, I'm here, babe. I'm right here."

Tessa didn't look at him, though. Instead, she turned her head to Neal, settled her glazed eyes on his face, and with her last breath, she whispered his name.

* * *

Author's note: Oh my goodness, I've never written a proper death scene before, so that was a little tough. Wow! I would love to know what you thought of it all. Do you feel like Tessa's asking for forgiveness was okay? Or do you think that it was too little, too late? Do you feel like Neal handled it the right way? And how do you think Dmitri is going to take the fact that Tessa called out for Neal with her last breath?

I know it's only been a few days since I posted the last chapter, but I really wanted to get this one out there for you all. I'm eager to see what your thoughts are and to see where you all think this particular turn of events will lead us. What's going to happen now between Neal and Silas?

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I'm amazed at how well received this story is. You guys are all amazing and you make me want to continue writing. Thank you for that!


	25. Staring At The Barrel Of A Gun

What He Does Best

Chapter 25

* * *

Neal had no idea how long he had been sitting at Tessa's bedside. He had no idea how long it had been since she had used her last breath to whisper his name. Or how long he had been holding her lifeless, cold hand. All he knew was that his heart had shattered into small pieces once again, making him wonder how many times he could survive that happening.

The last four hours of his mother's life were a gift that he would cherish forever. He had spent most of his life convinced that his mother didn't love him, that she didn't care at all for him. But, her last words to him made him realize, that even if she wasn't strong enough to work through her own battles to show him the truth, she really did love him.

Of course, it wasn't like Neal could easily forget what she had done. He would always harbor some resentment that she hadn't been strong enough for him. After all, he was only a child whose whole world had been turned upside down so many times. He shouldn't have grown up feeling like he was unworthy of being loved. He shouldn't have had to put himself to bed at night, wondering what he had done to make his mother disregard him in such a way_. No, he definitely wouldn't easily forget those things, but he was being hones when he told her that she was forgiven._

All of that was behind him now, though, he told himself. He had moved on with his life, despite the despair of his childhood. He had lived a life that was adventurous and exciting, traveling to exotic places and doing exhilarating things. He had pulled himself out of the despair that had driven him away from his mother and Ellen when he was eighteen. And, he had lived his life without regrets.

Neal suddenly realized, though, that he actually did have regrets for how he had lived his life. He regretted leaving Ellen and not staying in touch with her. She had always been the one constant in his life and he had never really gotten the chance to say thank you to her. Now, it was too late.

He also regretted trying to convince Kate to go to Copenhagen with him to run a con with Alex Hunter. Of course, Kate wasn't really mad that he wanted to help Alex run the con. She was more upset that Neal had tried to con her, something that she felt made it harder to trust him about anything. When Kate left him, all of Neal's insecurities from his childhood had come bubbling back to the surface, more virulent than ever.

This, of course, had led him to act impulsively and recklessly, which had then led to him being arrested by Special Agent Peter Burke. If Neal were honest with himself, he would admit that his biggest regret was allowing Peter to become so entangled in his life. The man didn't deserve any of the things that had happened to him since he took on Neal as a partner. _Being kidnapped by Keller, Elizabeth being kidnapped by Keller, being demoted to working in the FBI Evidence Warehouse, being arrested for the murder of Senator Pratt, and now being kidnapped by Silas Dmitri._

Yes, bringing Peter Burke into his life was definitely his being regret.

* * *

Eventually, Neal was made aware of Dmitri's presence on the other side of his mother's bed when he heard the man clear his throat. Looking up, he was shocked to see the look on the man's face. It was easy to tell that the man was heartbroken, but Neal could also see an underlying sense of something else. _Anger? Jealousy? _Whatever it was, the man was looking at him strangely, making Neal feel a sudden desire to fidget restlessly in his seat.

Before either of them could say anything, an older woman entered the room and started explaining what would happen next with Tessa. Neal was no stranger to death, having witnessed Kate's death first-hand, as well as Ellen's. Of course, he hadn't been able to do anything after Kate's death, thanks to the fact that the FBI had sent him back to prison immediately afterwards. With Ellen, he had been able to plan her funeral service with the help of Elizabeth, and suddenly he wished that Elizabeth was there to help him again.

After talking through the main points of the next steps, Dmitri finally stood up and told Neal that it was time to go. His words were abrupt and hollow, but his eyes never left Neal's face. The urge to fidget was growing exponentially under the intensity of the man's gaze, but Neal was able to control himself.

"I need a few more minutes," Neal said as strongly as he could.

"We need to go," Dmitri repeated tersely.

"I'm not ready yet, Dmitri," Neal answered just as tersely. "I need a few more minutes."

"You're ready when I say you're ready, boy," Dmitri growled. "Let's go."

Neal didn't want to start anything there in the hospital room, so he knew he had no choice but to leave. Still holding onto his mother's hand, he bent down and kissed her on the forehead. His lips lingered on her forehead for several long seconds before he stood up and brought her hand gently to his lips. After softly kissing her hand, he placed it down by her side and let it go. His last deed before leaving the room was to pull the blankets up to his mother's chin and to tuck a loose strand of hair back behind her ears.

Without another word, Neal turned and walked out of the room.

* * *

Peter hated not knowing what time it was. He hated feeling so completely disoriented, too. But, most of all, he hated not knowing what was going on with Neal. As he sat there in the small room, he realized how much he had come to rely on the ability to look up Neal's tracking data at any time to know where the young man was. It had become a thing of comfort to him, so not having the ability at the moment was driving him crazy.

_Where was he? What did Dmitri want with him? Was Dmitri hurting him like he did the last time? _The thought that Dmitri might be beating Neal again made Peter's blood boil. He was surprised at how protective he had become over the young man in the last few years. While he knew that Neal was more than capable of taking care of himself in most situations, he also knew that things were different when it came to Silas Dmitri. Peter had recognized the look that came over Neal's face whenever Dmitri's name was mentioned. The young man would never admit it to anyone, but he was truly scared of Dmitri.

That thought nearly broke Peter's heart. He knew that Silas Dmitri had been the closest thing to a father that Neal had had growing up. He also knew that Dmitri had acted like anything but a father. Peter's own father was a man worth looking up to and respecting. His father had worked hard to provide for his family. He had worked hard to instill in his son a sense of duty and respect. His father had taught him about accountability and responsibility. About hard-work and honesty. Richard Burke had taught him to be a man of honor. A man that stood up for others and fought for truth and justice.

Silas Dmitri was the exact polar opposite of Richard Burke. He found it easier to go through life taking things that didn't belong to him. He respected no one but himself and he never felt the need to hold himself accountable for anything. He knew nothing about hard-work and honesty. He was nothing more than a brutal, hard man.

To think that Neal had been subjected to such a harsh man in the most influential years of his young life was depressing, to say the least. It was a wonder that the boy had learned to care about anything but himself, really. And, if there was one thing Peter knew for certain about Neal, it was that the young man cared immensely for the people in his life. Almost to a fault, actually.

Neal would do anything for the people he loved, without any regard at all for himself. He didn't bat an eye when Elizabeth told him to do whatever he had to do to clear her husband's name after Senator Pratt's murder. He didn't think twice when June asked for his help with her granddaughter, Samantha. He put himself in danger time and time again to help Peter solve cases….. to bring justice to light. Although many people thought that he was a selfish thief and cold and callous con man, Peter knew the truth of Neal Caffrey. Even though the man had a history and habit of taking whatever it was he wanted, he was actually one of the most selfless men Peter had ever known.

And he had deserved a better childhood. As he so often did, Peter let his mind wander to the type of man Neal would be if he had grown up in a loving, stable environment. Some of the man's charm was a product of how he had grown up, but so were all of his insecurities. Of course, anyone looking at Neal Caffrey would think that the man didn't have any insecurities, but Peter knew better. He knew that Neal was just an expert at hiding those insecurities and projecting onto others the version of the man he wanted them to see.

Peter wasn't usually the best at knowing how to handle someone's emotions, but he was exceptional at reading people. He noticed the way Neal acted whenever Jones or Diana treated him like a friend. He could see how important their acceptance was to the young man. He also noticed how Neal seemed to soak up the mothering ways of June and Elizabeth. He tried to act like he didn't like them coddling him, but Peter could tell that the young man reveled in it.

He also noticed the look that came over Neal's face whenever the tracking anklet had to be put on after a case. Peter knew that Neal realized what a good deal he had going with the FBI, but he couldn't fault the kid for feeling the way he did about the anklet. It was a constant reminder to Neal that he wasn't truly a free man, that his life wasn't truly his own to lead. That he had to do what he was told and go where he was told to go was a bit disconcerting to a man like Neal. He was the epitome of a caged bird.

Even though Peter knew the necessity of the anklet and the restrictions on Neal's life, he couldn't help but find it troubling and dismal to see the effect it all had on Neal. To witness someone so full of life being contained in such a way was tragic.

Peter could remember feeling the same way the first time he had ever gone to the zoo with his parents. He remembered all of the other kids oohing and aahing over the various animals in their cages, but he found it all very distressing. He hated the sight of the magnificent lion walking back and forth in the small enclosure. He hated seeing the beautiful wolves pacing agitatedly in their confined area.

To see something so beautiful being denied their independence and autonomy had almost been too much for the young boy. Watching someone like Neal suffering the same sentence was not any better.

* * *

The trip back to the warehouse was made mostly in silence. Neal spent the time on the plane staring out of the window and thinking about his mother. Not once did he stop to think how her death might impact Dmitri's plan. Every once in a while, he would look over at the man, only to find that he was staring right back at him.

Neal found this to be completely unnerving. Usually, he was good at reading people, but Dmitri was impossible to read. Other than knowing that the man was truly distraught about Tessa's death, Neal had no idea what was going through his head. He was pretty sure that it involved him somehow, which did nothing to make him feel better. There was a small part of him that was hoping that Tessa's death would curtail the rest of Dmitri's plans. _Wishful thinking…_

Once they touched ground back in New York, Neal's hands were zip-tied in front of him and he was blindfolded as they put him in the car. He was hoping that they would forget to do that, so he could get a sense of where the warehouse was located, but it wasn't to be. As they drove along, he tried to pay attention to the various types of roads they were on, as well as the presence of traffic signals and other cars, but the way was too convoluted and he couldn't keep track of all the twists and turns.

An hour later, they arrived back at the warehouse. Neal found that he was completely burned out emotionally and he hoped that he would just be taken back to the small room he had been kept in and given time to mourn the loss of his mother. Unfortunately, Dmitri had other ideas.

"Take him to my office," he instructed Victor.

Victor grabbed Neal by the zip ties, jerking him forward roughly enough to cause him to stumble and fall face first into the asphalt. Neal quickly got to his feet, with the help of another jerk on the zip-ties from Victor. He could feel the blood that trickled down his face and into his right eye from a cut on his forehead, but he had no way to wipe it off as he struggled to stay on his feet.

Once inside, he was led through the big open room to the other end. He watched as Dmitri pulled a key out of his pocket and opened the door. Seconds later, he was pushed unceremoniously through the door, hard enough to send him colliding into the desk in the middle of the room.

"Pour me a drink, Victor," Dmitri ordered as he sat down behind the big desk. Once he had his drink in front of him, Dmitri finally looked up at Neal. "I don't understand it," he said sullenly. "I took care of her when no one else would. I stood by her when you left her and when Ellen left her. I gave her everything she wanted. I took her on amazing vacations and bought her the most exquisite jewelry. I treated her like a queen. And when she got too sick for me to take care of, I made sure she went to the best place money could buy. I visited her every chance I had. I did everything I could to make her happy.

"But, in the end, all she wanted was you. All she wanted was her precious Danny or her beloved Neal. It didn't matter to her that you ran out on her all those years ago or that you never visited her when she was sick. It didn't matter that you showed absolutely no regard for her well-being, that you just threw her aside like a piece of trash."

Neal noticed that Dmitri's face was becoming redder and redder during his diatribe. He could see the man's hands starting to tremble violently as he held onto the desk. Neal knew that the man was just seconds away from completely losing it.

"I don't get it," Dmitri continued. "I just don't get what it is about you that makes everyone want to protect you and care for you. I don't understand how Tessa can forget about all those years that you impeded our happiness….about all the trouble you caused us. And then you just up and left, not caring how that would affect your mother. I don't understand how you can be so selfish, but yet _you're_ the one she wants in the end.

"And then there's Burke. What is it about you that makes him care so much for you? Why would he put his job and his life on the line for you repeatedly? What is it about you that makes everyone feel like you're worth risking everything for?"

Neal didn't respond to Dmitri, because he was wondering the same thing himself. He had no idea why his mother suddenly wanted to see him so badly. He had no idea why Peter put up with him and everything that he brought with him. He had no idea why anyone felt like he was worth caring about.

"You know what I think?" Dmitri asked. "I think that you are the absolute best con man I've ever seen. Somehow you've been able to con every person in your life into thinking that you deserve to be loved, that you deserve more than to be locked up in a tiny little cell for the rest of your life. That you deserve more than to be thrown out with the trash like the garbage that you are. But, we both know the truth, don't we? We both know what you really deserve, Danny."

"It's Neal," Neal said firmly. "And you don't know anything about me, Dmitri."

"I know more than you think, boy," Dmitri answered. "But, all of that doesn't matter anymore. What matters is where we go from here. And I'm done playing nice, just so you know. From this point forward, you will do exactly what I say or you will reap the undesirable benefits of my anger and displeasure. Is that clear?"

Neal glared at Dmitri, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of answering him. Unfortunately, Dmitri didn't appreciate the glare. Before Neal even knew what was happening, Dmitri stood up and walked angrily around the desk. Neal tried to step backwards, but he ran into the rock solid body of Victor, who quickly wrapped his arms around Neal.

Without the freedom to move, Neal had no choice but to stand there as Dmitri approached him. Seconds later, Neal's head whipped sideways and pain bloomed across his left cheek as Dmitri ferociously back-handed him. If it hadn't been for Victor, Neal would have most likely fallen from the force of the hit.

Just as he was preparing himself for another blow, Dmitri stepped forward again, bringing his head down enough to ensure that they were standing face to face. They were standing so close, in fact, that Dmitri's hot breath was fanning Neal's face and Neal had to look somewhat cross-eyed to keep the man in his sights.

"I won't put up with your insolence, boy. The sooner you figure that out, the better it will be for you and for your friend." Turning to Victor, Dmitri nodded to the door. "Get him out of here. And make sure he understands what I'm saying."

* * *

Peter heard a loud commotion outside of his door. He could make out several loud voices and he was pretty sure that one of them sounded like Neal. As he listened, he started hearing what sounded like someone being punched. His stomach dropped completely when he realized that the cries of pain he was hearing were definitely coming from his partner.

"Neal!" he yelled as he banged on the door. "Neal!" And then, "Leave him alone, you bastards! Neal!"

He knew that his yelling was in vain. They, of course, weren't going to stop what they were doing just because he was demanding it. As he listened to what sounded like one hell of a beating being handed out, he sank to the floor, angry at the feeling of helplessness that washed over him. He couldn't do anything but listen as punch after punch landed on the body of his friend.

* * *

Elizabeth was beside herself with worry. When she woke up that morning, she was surprised to find that her husband was still gone. She remembered him telling her that Neal had called and that he was going to go and talk to him. He assured her that he wouldn't be gone for long, so she had fallen back asleep.

Now, it had been hours and hours since he had left and no one had heard from either him or Neal. Elizabeth had called Diana immediately, so she knew that the trail couldn't be that cold. But, then she wondered what kind of trail would there even be to follow. As it turned out, they had found Peter's car easily enough and the last ping on Neal's anklet showed that the man had still been within his radius. But, now there was nothing. No anklet to guide them, no cell phones to triangulate, nothing.

Elizabeth tried to stay home in case Peter called on the home phone, but she found that she couldn't. She needed to be at the hub of the search, which meant that she had to go into the White Collar office. Once she was there, Hughes tried to talk her into returning home, but gave up once he realized that she wasn't leaving. Instead, she made herself as comfortable as she could in her husband's office and watched through the glass windows as the agents scrambled around below.

* * *

Neal could barely lift his head from the floor, so he just laid there, trying to quell the nausea that was coursing through him. Once again, he found that his eyes were nearly swollen shut and his ribs burned with each breath he took. If recent events were indicative of things to come, Neal was in big trouble. Worse than that, though, was the fact that Peter was in danger, too.

At that moment, Neal decided that his first priority was to keep Peter away from whatever was going on. He knew what that meant… that he had to go along with whatever Dmitri had planned. If the man told him to jump, he would jump. If he told him to steal something or forge something, that's what he would do. He would play along with Dmitri for as long as he had to, if it meant keeping Peter safe.

As he lay there, he tried to figure out just exactly what Dmitri was planning. He couldn't see any way around the bond issue, really. If the FBI was already suspicious about the bonds, there was no way he could think of to work around it. The problem would be trying to convince Dmitri to forget about the bonds. The only thing he thought might work was to offer the man another idea.

Neal slept very little that night as idea after idea ran through his aching head. By the next morning, he had the beginning of a plan worked out in his head. He only hoped that he could persuade Dmitri to follow along.

He wasn't surprised to hear the door opening a few minutes after he woke up. He knew that Dmitri was never one to waste the daylight hours. Unfortunately, it was Victor that came to fetch him, and Neal could tell that the man wasn't a morning person himself. Without a word, he stepped into the room, grabbed Neal by the shirt, and hauled him to his feet.

"You know, it would work just as well if you just asked me to stand up," Neal said with a grotesque, fat-lipped smile.

Victor ignored him, choosing instead to propel him back down the hall to the office. Once they were inside, Neal wiped the smile off of his face as he turned to Dmitri.

"Good morning, Neal," the man said. "How did you sleep last night?"

Neal scoffed inwardly at the question, but decided that civility was the best approach. "To be honest, Silas, I really didn't sleep that well. The floor was just a little too hard for my bruised ribs, I guess."

"Hmmmm," Dmitri replied. "I guess that's the punishment you get for your insubordination yesterday. I hope you learned your lesson this time. You know how I feel about repeated misbehaviors."

Neal didn't answer, but nodded his head slightly at the man. Luckily, Dmitri seem to think that was an acceptable response.

"Victor, I think the boy could use a chance to freshen up a bit. Please escort him to the bathroom and supply him with some fresh clothes. Then make sure he eats something before you bring him back to me."

Neal gladly followed Victor to the bathroom, anxious to relieve himself and to be able to clean up a little. Once there, Victor sent another man to find some clean clothes for Neal and then cut off the zip-ties.

"You have fifteen minutes," he said.

Neal was hoping that the man would give him a little privacy, but it seemed that he was intent on staying and watching everything Neal did. Without giving it another thought, Neal went about his business. He quickly relieved himself and then climbed into the shower, letting the hot water cascade down over his sore body. He was pretty sure that he had never had a shower feel quite so good.

Once he had washed his hair, face, and body three complete times, he turned off the water and grabbed the towel that was hanging on the rack. Stepping out of the shower, aware that Victor was watching him the whole time, he dried himself off and then tied the towel around his waist. Looking at himself in the mirror, he was surprised to see how rough he looked. Both of his eyes were still swollen, but he was at least able to see without any issues. The cut on his forehead probably could have used a stich or two, but for the time being it had closed enough on its own. His bottom lip was swollen and he could see the beginning of a spectacular bruise forming on his left cheek. The worst of it all, though, was the significant bruising he noted around his rib cage.

Ten minutes later, he had brushed his teeth with his finger, brushed his hands through his hair, and dressed himself in the clothes Dmitri had provided for him. He wasn't too happy with the track suit, knowing that he would never wear something like it by choice, but at least it was clean and fit reasonably well.

Once he was done in the bathroom, Victor led him back to the dining area. Just as Neal turned into the room, he caught a glimpse of Peter being led away by another man.

"Peter!" he yelled as he surged forward.

Peter turned around quickly at the sound of his partner's voice. "Neal!"

Before Neal or Peter could say anything else, Victor stepped in front of Neal and punched him savagely in the stomach. Peter tried to step forward to help Neal, but the man that had been leading him away grabbed him by the arms. "Let's go, Burke," the man said, trying to pull him away from the room.

"Neal!" Peter yelled again. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," Neal grunted breathlessly as he tried to stand up straight. "Peter, don't worry about me, okay? Just do what they tell you to."

Peter wanted to tell Neal the same thing, but he never got the chance. As he was being dragged down the hall, he yelled one more thing to his friend, hoping that the young man actually listened. "Don't do anything stupid, Neal!" he yelled. He couldn't help but remember what had happened the last time he had said that to Neal.

* * *

Author's note: It looks like Neal is in for another rough time. Poor guy….. I wonder why it's so much fun to torture the guy so much ;)

How do you all think this is going to play out? Neal is intent on protecting Peter and Peter is intent on protecting Neal. Something tells me that they both can't be successful, right? And how many of you are starting to hate Victor more than Dmitri? Lol.

Btw…. This chapter is dedicated to joeneal, who sent me a PM begging me to update soon. I was going to wait until tomorrow to finish the chapter, but that message changed my mind, lol. What kind of an author leaves her readers hanging for too long…..

Thanks for reading and reviewing. You guys are awesome.


	26. The Truth Can Be Deceiving

What He Does Best

Chapter 26

* * *

Neal ate as quickly as he could, wanting to get back to Dmitri while his recent sighting of Peter was fresh in his mind. He had to find some way to get Dmitri to release Peter.

After he had finished his meal, he followed Victor back to Dmitri's office obediently. _No sense in pissing the man off again, right? _Dmitri was on his phone when Victor ushered Neal into the room. Neal stood silently in front of the man's desk, waiting to get his attention. Several minutes later, Dmitri put his phone down and turned his attention to Neal.

"You look like you feel better," Dmitri said. "Although, that isn't something I thought you would ever voluntarily wear."

Neal shrugged. "It beats wearing my own clothes for another day. Thanks for the shower."

Dmitri looked surprised to hear Neal's gratitude. Giving the younger man a small nod, he stood up and walked around the desk. Neal stood fast in front of the desk, even though he wanted to take a step back. He wasn't sure what Dmitri was up to, but he wasn't about to give the man the satisfaction of knowing that he was anxious.

"We have some things to talk about," the man said.

"I know you think the bond thing is still a priority, but it's not going to work, Dmitri," Neal said quickly. "With the FBI in the picture, you won't be able to move the other bonds. They're useless."

"Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this? How much time I put into these bonds? I'm not just going to give it up, boy. That's not an option."

"It's the _only _option," Neal exclaimed. "I'm telling you, Silas. There's no way you're moving those bonds. But, I have another plan."

When Dmitri didn't say anything, choosing instead to level him with a glare, Neal continued. "I have a particular set of skills that could be of use to you," he said simply. "I can ensure a big payoff for you… if you give me the chance."

Dmitri looked like he was about to explode, but Neal watched as he reined himself in. "How big of a payoff?" he finally asked.

"Big enough," Neal answered. "And it doesn't have to be a one-time deal, either."

Dmitri looked even more interested at that. "Go on…."

"You've seen my work, Dmitri. You know I'm good. But, what you don't know is that there are pieces of my work hanging in museums of great renown all over the world. They've passed the most stringent of inspections and held up under the scrutiny of the most prominent art experts. These pieces are worth millions of dollars."

"I don't see how that helps me," Dmitri said. "Are you planning on robbing these museums for me? And then what am I to do with art that's listed as stolen?"

"No," Neal explained. "I'm offering to create new pieces for you. There are numerous paintings that have been listed as lost or stolen for centuries. With the right provenance in hand, those pieces could be worth millions if someone were to find them. We both know that provenances can be forged. And I have other skills, too. Sculpting, diamond forgery, whiskey counterfeiting. Hell…..I could even make you money playing backgammon, if I had to."

Dmitri still didn't look convinced. "What's the catch?" he asked, knowing that Neal had to have something up his sleeve.

"It's not really a catch, Dmitri. I'll hold up my end of the bargain, if you choose to take me up on my offer. In return, you let Peter go and you give me your word that you won't mess with any of my friends again. That's all."

Again, Dmitri looked surprised at Neal's words. "That's it, huh? If I give you my word that I'll leave your friends alone, you'll work for me."

"Yes," Neal agreed. "But, this isn't a lifetime commitment, Dmitri. Once I've provided you with an agreed upon amount, you go on your way. And we'll never see each other again. You'll stay out of my life."

Dmitri turned and walked back around his desk, taking a seat as he thought about Neal's offer. "You really think this will work? What assurances do I have that you'll keep your word?"

"I'll keep my word because I want nothing more than to get you out of my life. That's the only assurance you need. Nothing more, nothing less," Neal said. "Do we have a deal?"

"I'll need to think about it," Dmitri answered.

"You'd better think fast, Dmitri, because the FBI will be closing in on you soon. Peter's team will stop at nothing to find him and they are really good at their jobs. I'd say you have less than twelve hours before they come knocking on your door."

Dmitri's response to that was to tell Victor to take Neal back to his room.

* * *

Diana had never felt so frustrated in her life and that was saying a lot. Having worked with Neal Caffrey for the last several years, frustration was a consistent part of her life. The man was one of the most intelligent men she had ever known, but his impulsivity and his ability to charm his way out of most things definitely made for frustrating times. All in all, though, she admired the man and truly felt that he was an asset to their team.

The respect and admiration she held for Peter Burke was a huge part of her current frustration level. She didn't necessarily blame Neal for whatever trouble the two of them were in, but it was obvious that whatever had happened was because of the con man. She knew how much Peter cared for the younger man and she knew that he would do anything to protect him. This, of course, was why her boss had thought it necessary to get out of bed in the middle of the night and go after the man…. with no back up or even a simple call to inform one of his agents what he was doing. If he had called one of them, they would have been faster in figuring out that something had gone wrong.

Now, it had been almost two full days without a single sign to lead them to the two missing men. They really didn't even know if Peter and Neal were still alive. It was like they had both completely disappeared from the face of the earth.

Another frustration she was currently facing was the fact that Elizabeth had holed up in Peter's office, anxious to be there in case any new leads were found. Diana spent every free moment trying to talk her into going home to rest, but Elizabeth wouldn't budge.

With every free agent scrambling around and doing everything they could to find the missing men, the White Collar office was a mad house. Because of that, it took Diana several minutes to notice the short, bald headed man that seemed to be standing warily near the door.

"What's he doing here?" she said to no one in particular.

When they first realized that Peter and Neal were missing, Diana and Jones had reached out to June and Mozzie, hoping that they knew something. Both had been severely disappointed when both June and Mozzie denied any knowledge of where Neal was going that night.

Heading out of Peter's office, she ran into Jones and directed his gaze to Mozzie. Minutes later, Jones was escorting a very paranoid looking Mozzie upstairs to the office.

"Mrs. Suit!" Mozzie exclaimed, obviously happy to see Elizabeth. "What are you doing here?"

Before Elizabeth could answer, Diana broke in. "I think the question that we all want answered is what you're doing here, Mozzie."

Mozzie stepped over to Elizabeth and placed his hand on her arm before answering. "I received an interesting phone call," he said. "Well, it wasn't me that actually received it. It was a message for Neal."

"Come on, Mozzie," Diana interrupted. "Spit it out! What was it about?"

Mozzie sent a glare at Diana. "Don't rush me, Lady Suit. Now, where was I? Oh yeah, Neal has a secret voice mail set up for certain people to call in case of emergencies. This afternoon, I thought to check it, hoping that maybe Neal had left a message for me. He didn't, but there was another message."

Diana noticed the way Elizabeth's eyes filled with hope again and wondered if she herself was mirroring that look. Tearing her eyes away from Elizabeth, she waited for Mozzie to continue.

"I don't know if you know this, Junior Suits, but Neal's mother has been in a long-term care facility for several years. Neal doesn't talk about her too often, but I do know that her condition has been deteriorating over the last year. Neal receives frequent updates on her condition either by mail or through this voice mail. Earlier this afternoon, the facility called and left a message."

Diana, Elizabeth, and Jones all watched as Mozzie pulled out his phone and dialed. They waited as he punched in several numbers to gain access to the voice mailbox. Once he was done, he placed the phone on speaker and laid it down on the table in front of him.

The four of them listened as a woman's voice came over the speaker. "Mr. Brooks, this is Catherine Mason at Rosewood Long-term Care Center. I'm calling in regards to your mother and I'm sorry I missed you this afternoon. There are a few things we need to discuss concerning your mother's passing, so if you could please return my call, as soon as possible, I would appreciate it. I know this must be a difficult time for you and I'm truly sorry for your loss."

Once the message was finished, Mozzie picked up his phone and placed it back into his pocket. Diana, Jones, and Elizabeth all stared at him for several long seconds, trying to comprehend everything they had heard. Elizabeth was the first to speak.

"He was there just this morning? That doesn't make sense. Why wouldn't he have called us? Where was Peter?"

No one knew how to answer her, so Diana moved the conversation in another direction. "Where is this Rosewood Care Center?" she asked Mozzie.

"Neal never shared that information with me, but the phone number indicates that it's in the Chicago area," Mozzie supplied.

Without another word, Diana and Jones ran out of the office and started barking orders to the agents below. Within seconds, they were all scrambling with a new purpose.

* * *

Neal wasn't sure how much time had passed, but by the time Victor opened his door again, he was more than ready to get out of the small, boxed-in room. Hoping to not give Victor any reason to manhandle him, he jumped to his feet as quickly as he could.

"Dmitri wants to see you," Victor growled.

Neal stepped through the door and followed Victor down the long hallway. As usual, he was taken back to Dmitri's office where the man was still sitting behind his desk.

"Neal, have a seat," Dmitri said, gesturing to the chair in front of the desk. "Victor, pour us some drinks, please. We have a lot to discuss."

After Victor placed the two drinks in front of them, Dmitri ordered the man to wait outside. Neal could tell that Victor wasn't particularly pleased with being dismissed so easily, but he really didn't care. All of his attention was focused on the man sitting behind the desk.

"If I were to agree with your plan, what would your first move be?" Dmitri asked. "And how quick would you move?"

"I have a few ideas," Neal said. "I told you earlier that there are numerous paintings and other works of art that have been lost or stolen. Some are even presumed destroyed, but there hasn't ever been actual proof. The Just Judges by Jan van Eyck is a lesser known painting that was stolen in 1934. It is the lower left panel of the Ghent Altarpiece, which had been on display in Belgium when it was stolen. The self-proclaimed thief revealed on his deathbed that he was the only one who knew where the masterpiece was hidden. The provenance would be easy to forge and a simple backstory of how and where you found it would be easy to create."

"What good would that do me? Surely, it would just be returned to wherever it was stolen from, so how would you make any money from that?"

"Dmitri, this painting is priceless. I can assure you that the right person would pay good money to own this painting. And I have someone that can easily facilitate the sell."

"And you think you can replicate this painting? And that it would pass any and all scrutiny?"

"I know I can," Neal said confidently.

"What else?" Dmitri asked.

"Raphael's Painting of a Young Man," Neal replied. "It's an oil painting that was stolen from Poland by the Nazis in 1945. Some believe it was destroyed by the Nazis, but it is widely believed by many that it survived the war. With or without a believable provenance, this painting is worth millions to the right buyer."

Neal could tell by the look on Dmitri's face that he was starting to believe in the plan. He decided that it was time to give the man a final push.

"Listen, Dmitri…..You and I have had our differences through the years, but I'm willing to put that all behind me. I know that you loved my mother and I'm grateful for that, but I'm doing this because I want you out of my life. You feel like I owe you something, so I'm willing to go through with this to repay you. Once it's done, we go our separate ways. That's it. That's all."

"What do you need to get started and how long will it take you?"

"I don't plan on doing this while I'm being held here, Dmitri. I need the right supplies and I only trust myself and a friend of mine to find the supplies I need. Let us go now and I will get started as soon as I'm home."

"You expect me to let you go? Are you insane?"

"It's the only way this will work."

"You _are _insane," Dmitri said. "What makes you think I'm stupid enough to actually let you go? You'll go straight to the FBI and spill everything, making it even more impossible to move the bonds."

"I already told you that the bonds are useless. And I won't go to the FBI. I don't want them to know of my involvement in those bonds, but more importantly, I want you to disappear. If I tell them everything, I know that you'll just show up another day. Or, that you'll hurt someone that I care about. I wouldn't chance that, Dmitri. I know what you're capable of, remember?"

"What about Burke?" Dmitri asked.

"I can't promise that Peter won't continue to search for you, but I can make sure he doesn't find you. He'll listen to me, especially if I can convince him that it would be in the best interest of all of us to forget about you."

Dmitri still didn't look convinced. "Do you expect me to believe that he won't wonder why I just suddenly let you go?"

Neal eyed his step-father closely before speaking. "I'll tell him that everything changed when my mother died," he said quietly. "I'll tell him that you were distraught and needed to deal with your grief. I can make him believe me."

"And how do you suppose I let you go? Just open the door and let you walk out? I don't think so. There's no way I'm letting him link this warehouse to me."

Neal actually smiled at that. "That's an easy one. Just blindfold us and take us somewhere else."

"I don't trust either one of you," Dmitri replied. "I know how good you are at escaping normal bonds and I'm not willing to take any chances. I'll come up with another plan."

* * *

Neal was taken back to his small room after a bathroom break. He was hoping to get another glimpse of Peter, but the man was nowhere in sight. Once he was back in the room, he sat down against the wall and thought about everything he had offered to do for Dmitri. His stomach churned at the idea of pulling off the forgeries right under Peter's nose. He didn't like the idea of deceiving the one man whose respect he cherished the most, but he would do it to keep him safe.

Eventually, after his head started aching from all the thoughts running through it, he dozed off. When he woke up again, he had no idea how long he had slept, nor did he have any idea of what time it actually was. He was relieved to realize that his headache was gone, counting that as a small mercy.

The door eventually opened, but surprisingly it wasn't Victor that entered the room. Dmitri walked in, holding a bottle of water and a tray of slightly better food than he had been served before.

"Eat up, Neal, and make sure you drink your water. I'll check on you later."

Neal was confused at Dmitri's actions, wondering why he had delivered the food himself. When the door closed behind the man, Neal eagerly ate the sandwich and drank his water. By the time he was done with both, his head was spinning and his eyes were growing heavy. Just before his eyes closed completely, he realized that Dmitri had slipped him something to sedate him. His last conscious thought was that he hoped that this was part of the man's plan to move them to another place and that he was in fact letting them go.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Peter woke up with a pounding headache and a sour stomach. He felt like he had a massive hangover, but he didn't remember drinking anything. As he tried to get his jumbled brain to focus, he looked around, hoping to be able to discern where he was.

After taking a few deep breaths and blinking his eyes a few times, his vision cleared enough for him to see a shape lying a few yards away. It took him a few seconds to realize that the shape was actually the body of a man.

"Neal!" he yelled as he scrambled forward. "Neal, are you okay?"

When he didn't get any response from the younger man, he gently shook him by the shoulders. When there still wasn't any response, he placed his trembling fingers on Neal's neck, feeling for a pulse. He let out a sigh of relief when he felt the slow, but strong pulse beating steadily. He could also tell that the man was taking slow, shallow breaths.

Figuring that they both had been drugged by Dmitri, he settled down next to Neal and waited for him to wake up.

* * *

Neal woke up with a pounding headache and a sour stomach. He felt like he had stayed up late with Mozzie, emptying several bottles of wine in the process, but somehow he knew that wasn't what had happened. As he lay there, he tried to open his eyes, but found that they were too heavy. Since that didn't work, he concentrated on his other senses….cold, hard ground…..light breeze blowing through his hair…dry mouth…the sound of someone breathing heavily nearby…..

Suddenly, everything came rushing back to him. He remembered being kidnapped by Dmitri. He remembered watching as someone hit Peter over the head and drug the man into a car. He remembered getting the hell beat out of him again. And he remembered watching his mother die.

Trying to focus his mind, he searched his memory for the most recent one. After several minutes, he remembered being locked up in the small room and Dmitri opening the door. He remembered the tray of food and the bottle of water being set down on the small table in the room and he remembered Dmitri encouraging him to eat and drink. That was it, though. After that, all he could recall was waking up wherever he was at the current moment.

Frustration filled him when he tried to open his eyes again without success. He encountered the same failure when he tried to speak. Fortunately, his attempt to move resulted in a little more success. With every ounce of his strength, he was able to move his hand ever so slightly, proving to himself that at least he wasn't paralyzed.

His frustration grew to even newer heights, though, when he realized that his act of Herculean strength went unnoticed by whoever it was sitting next to him. Mustering his strength again, he moved his left foot, followed immediately by a twitch of his right foot. As if that wasn't enough, he was finally able to produce a strange grunting noise that finally got his companion's attention.

Neal's heart nearly stopped at the sound of the familiar voice next to him.

"Neal!" Peter cried as he gently grabbed one of Neal's hands. "Hey, buddy…..How are you feeling?"

Neal tried to answer, but all he could manage was another strange grunt.

"Neal, can you squeeze my hand, buddy? I need to know that you're okay."

Neal squeezed Peter's hand so slightly that he wasn't sure the man even felt it. He made another attempt and was pleased that it was a little stronger than the last.

"Good, Neal. I felt that. Are you hurt anywhere?"

Neal managed a small shake of his head at that question. Other than the aches and pains from the beating Victor had dealt him, he was fine. His head was clearing up by the second, much to his relief and he even managed to open one eye, peering up at Peter with a roguish grin.

Peter smiled back at him, reassured by the fact that Neal's standard charm was still intact, despite the fact that he looked like hell and had been through worse. Still holding onto the younger man's hand, he allowed himself to relax for the first time in a long time.

After almost thirty minutes of laying on the cold ground, Neal was able to pull himself up, with a lot of help from Peter, into a sitting position. They stared at each other for several seconds before Neal finally spoke.

"I'm sorry, Peter. I'm so sorry that I got you involved in all of this."

"Hey," Peter admonished. "It means a lot to me that you trusted me enough to want to talk to me. I've been trying to get you to do that for years, kid. And I don't blame you for what Dmitri did. That's all on him, not you."

"I'm always getting you into messes, Peter. You don't deserve that. Every time you get involved in my personal business…"

Peter interrupted Neal. "I mean it, Neal. You're not to blame for any of this."

Peter knew that Neal felt differently, but he let it slide for the moment. "So, what did Dmitri want anyway? And why did he let us go?"

Neal was an excellent liar, but he had decided long ago that he wouldn't lie to Peter. He had no problem with misdirecting the man, but lying was out of the question. "I never claim to know what the man is up to, Peter, but this time he had a purpose."

Peter noticed the pain in Neal's eyes and he felt fury building in his blood. "What did he do to you, Neal? Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine, Peter," Neal answered. After a long pause, where it was obvious that he was trying to find the right words, he continued. "My mother died. Dmitri took me to see her. That's what he wanted."

Peter was blindsided by Neal's answer. And by the intense desire to protect the young man from any future sadness. He could tell that Neal was grieving the loss of his mother, even though he didn't understand it. From what he knew about Neal's childhood, he wasn't sad to hear that the woman had died. She had been weak and pathetic, choosing her own happiness over that of her son. In his opinion, Neal was better off without her influencing his life in any way. Not that he would ever share his opinion with his friend.

"I'm sorry, Neal."

"I knew it was coming, Peter. It wasn't a surprise, really. She had been sick for a very long time."

"That couldn't have been easy to see, Neal." Peter said. And then, "Why did Dmitri take you there? He knew that you and your mother had a stormy relationship, so why did he think it was a good idea to take you to her?"

"She asked for me," Neal answered quietly. "She kept asking for me. She wanted to see me, Peter. Before she died, she wanted to see me one last time."

Peter pretended not to notice the tears that were threatening to fall from Neal's eyes. "So, he kidnapped a federal agent just because your mother wanted to see you? Why didn't he just tell you what was going on? You could have told me and I could have arranged for you to see her. He didn't have to go to such extremes."

When Neal didn't answer, Peter pushed further. "It just doesn't make sense, Neal. Why would he do that?"

"I don't know, Peter!" Neal finally yelled. "He's insane. I'm guessing that he wanted to torment me even more."

Peter studied his friend closely. "That's it. That's all he wanted. He never talked to you about anything else? The whole time we were there, he didn't say anything else?"

"We talked about a lot of things, Peter, but, none of it was important. I did what he wanted me to do and now here we are. It's over."

"Are you sure about that?" Peter asked him.

"It's over," Neal repeated.

"Okay, then," Peter said with a smile. "What do you say we figure out where we are and find our way home, partner?"

* * *

Author's note: Well, the boys are safe and sound, at least for a little while, but I can't help but think that Neal made a deal with the devil. What do you all think about the recent turn of events? And how many of you think that Neal should be locked up somewhere for his own safety?

Thanks for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoyed the chapter.


	27. Tricked Into Believing

What He Does Best

Chapter 27

* * *

After spending several unsuccessful minutes searching the ground for tire tracks or footprints that would lead them in the right direction, Peter and Neal argued as to which way they should go. After several minutes of unsuccessful arguing, Peter pulled the old "I'm the one in charge" card, causing Neal to fall into a sulk. This only caused Peter to become even more frustrated.

"Neal, we have no idea where we are, so let's just pick a direction. I say we go south."

"Why do you get to pick the direction?" Neal asked with a pout. "Why is it always up to you?"

"Because, I'm the one…."

Neal quickly interrupted. "Why don't we play Rock, Paper, Scissors for it?" he asked.

"Seriously? How old are we again?" Peter groaned.

"Come on, Peter. It's the only fair way to decide. Best two out of three."

After a little more needling from Neal, Peter finally gave in. "Fine, but no cheating," he growled.

"That hurts, Peter," Neal said. "How can you cheat at Rock, Paper, Scissors?"

"I don't know, but if there's a way, I'm sure you'll find it."

Neal rolled his eyes and then formed his right hand into a fist and placed it into the palm of his left hand. Once Peter had done the same thing, Neal gave him a cheeky grin. "Okay, are you ready? One…two…three!"

On three, Peter thumped his right fist into his palm. Neal flattened his right hand out and placed it against his own palm.

"Paper covers Rock! That round goes to me!"

The next round, Peter chose Rock again. Unfortunately for him, Neal chose Paper again.

"Ha!" Neal laughed. "I won! Best two out of three, so that's game!"

"Wait a minute," Peter bellowed. "Let's make it three out of five."

"Fine," Neal answered with a grin. "Let's do it!"

On the third round, Peter played Rock again, figuring that there was no way Neal would think he would play it a third time. To his surprise, Neal once again chose Paper.

"That's three out of five, Peter. I win!"

"How did you do that?" Peter asked. "You obviously cheated."

Neal looked completely offended by Peter's accusation. "I didn't cheat, Peter. I'm just really good at this game."

"Come on, Neal. There's no way you didn't cheat."

"We could play this all day, Peter, and I bet you I could win every time."

Peter wished that he could take his partner up on that bet, but he knew they didn't have time to be playing games. _Elizabeth and his team were worried about them._

"I don't know how you did that, but I don't have time to figure it out. You won, so what direction do you think we should take?"

Without hesitation Neal answered. "We should head south."

"Neal!" Peter thundered. "If you were just going to pick south, too, why did we have to play that stupid game?"

Neal gave Peter another one of his cheeky grins. "I don't know," he said. "I've just always wanted to play that game with you."

Peter rolled his eyes and then pushed Neal gently in the direction they were going. "I should have left while you were still knocked out," he muttered.

* * *

As luck would have it, Peter and Neal only had to walk about a quarter of a mile before they reached a dirt road. Once they were on the road, they continued to walk in a southwest direction for several more miles. Eventually, they came upon a small farmhouse set a few hundred feet back from the road. It was nearly dusk and they could easily make out a light coming from one of the eastern facing windows.

Once they were upon the house, they climbed the porch steps. Peter knocked firmly, but gently on the door and took a step back. He was sure that whoever lived in the house didn't get too many strangers walking up to the door, and he didn't want to startle them at all.

When no one answered, Peter stepped forward and knocked again, a little more forcefully. Just as he was about to step back again, the door opened slightly to reveal an older woman staring warily at them.

"Who are you and what do you want?" she asked in a gravelly voice.

Before Peter could answer, Neal stepped forward and gave her a small smile. "Hello, ma'am," he said, pouring on the charm. "My name is Neal and this is Peter. We're a little lost and we're just trying to get home to our families. You wouldn't happen to have a phone we could use, would you?"

The woman still looked a little wary, but Peter could tell that Neal's charm had worked a bit of its usual magic. "I don't have a phone," she answered. "Never had much need of one."

Peter and Neal exchanged a quick look before Neal continued. "Could you tell us how far away we are from the nearest phone then?" he asked gently. "Or from the nearest town?"

"The nearest town is nearly five miles away," she croaked. "But, I think my neighbor has a phone line. Mr. Daly only lives two miles down this road."

"Thank you, Mrs…." Neal started.

"It's Mrs. Carson," she offered. "But, you can call me Livy. Would you boys care to come in for some tea? I just made some fresh cookies, too."

Neal looked beseechingly at Peter. Not only was he hungry and thirsty, but he really wanted to offer his company to the obviously lonely woman. Peter must have realized the benefit of getting something to eat and drink, so he gave Neal a short nod.

"That would be great, Mrs. Carson…I mean Livy." Neal waited for her to open the door and then quietly followed her into the house. Peter followed closely behind Neal, taking in the scene around him.

Once they were in the kitchen, Livy gestured for them to sit down at the table. Peter sat down, happy to allow his aching body a bit of relief, but Neal stepped over to their host and offered his help. By the time they set the tea and cookies down on the table, they were talking like they were old friends. Not for the first time, Peter wondered just how Neal managed to do that.

Twenty minutes later, Peter cleared his throat and nodded towards the door. He felt guilty for sitting there eating cookies and drinking tea while his wife worried about him and he was anxious to get back on the road. Neal stood up and carried their plates and cups over to the sink before turning back to Livy.

"Thank you so much, Livy. The cookies were delicious."

"That's my mother's old recipe," she said. "I'd be happy to make them for you again, sometime."

"That would be wonderful," Neal answered, knowing that he probably wouldn't ever make his way back to this part of the state again. _At least, as long as he was wearing the tracking anklet._ "Livy, could I have your address so I can send you a card every once in a while?"

Peter watched as the old woman's face lit up at that.

"Of course," she said as she hustled over to a small desk in the corner of the dining room. "I would love that, Neal."

A few minutes later, she handed Neal a small piece of paper. Neal took it from her and then leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you again, ma'am. You are one of a kind."

Livy blushed at his words, her hand fluttering up to her neck in surprise and obvious joy. Turning to Peter, she surprised him with her next words. "You are a very lucky man," she said firmly. "Your son is a wonderful, delightful young man."

Peter didn't know how to answer her, so he just nodded his head. Neal, on the other hand, had no trouble finding an answer.

"Thank you, Livy. I've been trying to tell _Dad_ that for years. He seems to think I'm annoying and disobedient most of the time."

"Nonsense!" she retorted as she glared at Peter. "You are truly delightful, Neal. I'm sure your mom feels the same as I do."

Peter noticed Neal's face cloud over at that, but the young con man quickly covered it up. "She does," he said. "She's much more open-minded and understanding. Dad can be a bit of a stick-in-the-mud, if you know what I mean." Winking conspiratorially at Livy, he turned and gave Peter his best look of innocence.

"Well," Peter said, "this stick-in-the-mud wants to get going before that open-minded, understanding mother of yours gets angry at us for not coming straight home."

Turning to Livy, Peter quickly thanked her and then pushed Neal gently in the direction of the door. Livy followed them out onto the porch, saying goodbye one last time to Neal as they turned and walked back down the road.

* * *

It didn't take long to find the neighbor's house and luckily for them, he was more than happy to let them use his phone. Peter immediately called Elizabeth, but her cell phone went directly to voice-mail. He was surprised when the home phone went unanswered, as well.

His next phone call was to the FBI. He wanted to call either Diana or Jones directly, but he was embarrassed to admit that since he always used his speed dial, he hadn't memorized their phone numbers. _Of course, he wouldn't ever admit that to Neal._

After calling the main FBI switchboard, he was transferred to the White Collar unit and was relieved when the phone was immediately answered. Not bothering to identify himself, he asked the young agent to patch him through to either Diana or Jones. A few seconds later, he heard the welcoming sound of Diana's voice.

"This is Agent Berrigan. How can I help you?"

Peter instantly recognized the impatience and irritation in her voice. He also thought that she sounded exhausted. "Diana, it's me," he said simply.

"Peter? Oh my God, are you okay? Where are you? Is Caffrey with you?"

"I'm fine, Diana. We're both fine."

Peter could hear some sort of commotion in the background and then seconds later he heard the unmistakable sound of a very agitated Elizabeth Burke.

"Peter? Is it really you?" she cried.

"It's me, El," he answered. "I'm okay, I promise."

"What about Neal? Is he with you? Is he okay?"

"He's okay, too, El. He's standing right here next to me."

"Put him on the phone, Peter. I need to hear his voice, too."

Peter handed the phone over to Neal, who just looked at it in surprise. "El wants to hear your voice, Neal. She wants to know that you're okay."

Neal took the phone from Peter and quickly spoke to Elizabeth. "Elizabeth? I'm fine, really. Just ready to come home."

After answering a few more questions from Elizabeth, Neal handed the phone back to Peter. Peter talked to Elizabeth for a few seconds longer and then asked her to put Diana back on the phone. Once Diana was back, he quickly told her where they were and asked her to send someone to bring them home. After settling a few more things, Peter spoke to Elizabeth again and then finally hung up the phone.

"Diana's sending someone from the local police department to escort us back. Shouldn't be more than a few minutes." Turning back to their host, Peter thanked him for the use of the phone. He also offered to pay whatever long-distance charges they might had incurred.

True to her word, a police car from the local police department showed up outside Mr. Daly's house within five minutes. Neal and Peter both thanked the man again and then eagerly climbed into the police car. Peter shot Neal a dirty look when he suggested they play another game of Rock, Paper, Scissors to determine who got to sit up front. Not surprisingly, Neal rode in the back seat.

Because of traffic, it took them nearly an hour to make it in to the FBI building. They both thanked their young driver before climbing out of the car. Once they had stepped onto the sidewalk, they were surrounded by what seemed like the entire White Collar division. Elizabeth rammed her way through the crowd and immediately threw herself into her husband's arms. Diana, Jones, and Hughes made their way through the crowd, too, stopping directly in front of both Peter and Neal.

Once Elizabeth was done hugging Peter, she moved over to Neal, who couldn't control the groan that escaped him when she hugged him too tightly.

"Neal? What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," Neal tried to reassure her.

"Neal George Caffrey, don't you dare lie to me," Elizabeth cried. "I heard you groan in pain when I hugged you. Where are you hurting?"

"Really, Elizabeth, it's nothing," Neal answered. "I'm fine."

"You are not fine, young man. Obviously, something is wrong and you need to get checked out."

Turning back to her husband, who was talking to Hughes, she interrupted. "Peter, Neal's hurt," she said immediately. "He needs to see a doctor."

All eyes turned to look at Neal, who was trying his best to school his expression. "I'm fine," he said in exasperation. "It's just a few bruised ribs. Nothing I haven't dealt with before."

Turning to Peter and Hughes, Neal looked at them pleadingly. "I don't need to see a doctor. I'm fine. All I need is to go home, take a shower, and get some sleep."

Peter didn't look like he was going to go against his wife's wishes, but Hughes did. "Caffrey, if you start feeling any worse, you are to go directly to the hospital. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Neal answered quickly.

"Good. Now, I know you both are probably exhausted, but protocol states that we have to at least get your preliminary statements tonight. If you can hang in there for another hour, we'll get you home."

Peter and Neal knew that they didn't have a choice, so they followed Hughes and the rest of their team into the building. Neal was surprised when Elizabeth, who was already holding onto her husband's arm, linked her other arm through his. Without a word, they all climbed into the elevator and made their way to the twenty-first floor, anxious to get their preliminary statements out of the way.

Neal wasn't surprised when they separated him from Peter. He knew that they had to take their statements separately and he really wasn't worried about anything. He wasn't surprised, either, when Jones showed up with a new tracking anklet for him. Once the tracker was back on his leg, he sat in one of the interrogation rooms, thinking through what he was going to say. A few minutes later, Diana opened the door and walked in, seating herself across from Neal.

Before she said anything, she burst out into laughter, causing Neal to wonder what was going on.

"Did I miss something?" he asked. "What's so funny?"

Diana continued to laugh, even as she tried desperately to pull herself back into control. "I never thought I'd see the day that Neal Caffrey looked anything less than sophisticated and classy."

Neal rolled his eyes at her words.

"I mean, really, Caffrey….. You're looking _rough_! Your hair is greasy, your fingernails have dirt under them, and if I'm not mistaken, you're wearing a track suit. A red track suit, at that!"

Neal was too tired to give Diana's criticism the attention it deserved. Instead, he just gave her a simple grin and wink of the eye. "You just wished you looked this good on a good day, Berrigan."

Diana glared at him and his cocky grin. "Let's just get this over with, Caffrey," she said in mock frustration. "Why don't you tell me what you were doing going for a walk at one o'clock in the morning?"

* * *

By the time they were done giving their statements, Peter and Neal were beyond exhausted. It was almost midnight when they finally met up in the break room, both looking decidedly worse for wear. Elizabeth looked just as tired.

"Let's go home," she said as she grabbed Peter by the arm.

Peter followed her out of the break room, but stopped when he realized that Neal wasn't following.

"Aren't you coming?"

"I'll get someone to drive me home," Neal answered.

"Nonsense, sweetie. It's late, so why don't you just come home with us? We can take you home in the morning." Elizabeth tried to convince Neal that it was the best idea, but she could tell it wasn't working.

"I'd rather just go home, El. You know…..take a shower in my own bathroom, put on my own clothes, sleep in my own bed."

Elizabeth looked like she was going to argue, but Peter stopped her when he stopped a junior agent and asked him to drive Neal home. After the young man agreed to the task, Peter turned back to his partner. "Okay, Neal. Get some rest. I'll pick you up in the morning at nine, okay? We're meeting with Hughes at ten to give our official statements."

Elizabeth gave Neal a long hug and then looked at him sternly. "Straight home, do you hear me? Take a shower and get yourself in bed."

"Yes, ma'am," Neal said as he bent down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Straight home and straight to bed after I wash the grime off of me. I promise."

Neal watched as Peter and Elizabeth walked through the doors and into the elevator. Turning to the young agent who was waiting patiently a few feet away, Neal told him that he needed to make a phone call before leaving. Making his way over to his desk, he quickly dialed Mozzie's emergency number. Not getting an answer, he left a message.

"Mozz, it's me. I need you to meet me at my apartment as soon as you get this message."

Once he hung up the phone, he turned back to the agent, who was now looking rather impatient.

"I'm ready," Neal said, giving the man his most affable smile.

* * *

Elizabeth was silent the whole ride home, making Peter wonder what was wrong with her. He knew she was worried about Neal, but he wasn't really sure why. The young man was safe. As unpleasant as the last several days had been, nothing significant had happened to either one of them. And Peter had no doubt that Neal would do exactly what Elizabeth had ordered him to do. He knew the kid was physically and mentally drained.

Once they arrived home, Peter went straight up to take a shower while Elizabeth made them both some tea. By the time he was done showering and shaving, Elizabeth was sitting on the edge of the bed with a tray of tea and scones sitting on her lap. He wasn't really hungry, but he figured that Elizabeth would feel better if he ate something.

"Thanks, hon. That looks great," he said as he sat on the edge of the bed next to her.

"_You_ look great," Elizabeth said. "Peter, I was so worried about you. Don't you ever do that to me again!"

Peter laughed as he pulled his wife closer to him. "Trust me, I don't _plan_ on letting that ever happen again."

They both sat in silence for several minutes as they ate their scones and drank their tea. Once they were done, Peter climbed into the bed and pulled Elizabeth in next to him. After drinking the hot tea, he was fighting to keep his eyes open. Elizabeth, on the other hand, was wide awake.

"Peter, do you think he's really okay?"

"Who?" Peter asked sleepily.

"Neal!" Elizabeth exclaimed in frustration. "There was just something off about him tonight."

"El, the man was just kidnapped and held hostage for days by a man he hates. He's probably going to seem a little off for a while, don't you think?"

"Yes," she agreed. "But, it seemed like more than just that, Peter. I can't put my finger on it, but it just seemed like he was pulling a con or something."

"He'll be okay, El, I promise. I'll keep a closer eye on him, okay?"

Elizabeth didn't look completely satisfied with Peter's answer, but she knew that he was falling asleep. Snuggling as closely to his as she could, she looked up at him.

"I love you, hon."

"I love _you_, hon," Peter answered in a somewhat slurred voice.

Before anything else could be said, Peter's gentle snores filled the room. Elizabeth closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but she knew that sleep would not be her friend that night.

* * *

Neal slowly pulled himself out of the junior agent's car, thanking him for the ride as he closed the door. He had just taken a single step toward the door when it opened to reveal a very excited June.

"Neal!" she cried as she made her way down the stairs to him. "Oh, baby….it's so good to have you back."

Neal waited as June checked him over from head to toe. "I think you've lost weight, darling,' she said in a very dissatisfied tone. "And you look like you're in pain."

"I'm fine, June, really. Just tired and in desperate need of a shower."

"I won't argue with that," June said with a laugh. "And what on earth are you wearing?"

Neal looked guiltily at June. "I'm sorry, but I ruined another one of Byron's suits."

"Neal," June chastised. "Do you really think I was worried about the suit you were wearing?"

Neal gave her a sheepish look. "Well, it seems to be a reoccurring theme, June. How many have I ruined so far? Six? Seven?"

"I don't care about any of that, young man. All I care about is you. Suits can be replaced. You cannot."

Neal allowed June to usher him into the kitchen and then allowed her to push him down into one of the kitchen chairs. He wasn't hungry in the least, but he knew that June wouldn't let him go to bed without eating something. He watched as she loaded up a silver tray with several muffins and cookies, as well as a carafe of milk. _Comfort food_, he thought.

After eating half of a banana nut muffin and several cookies, he quickly drank a glass of milk and then bid June a goodnight with a hug and a kiss. He could feel her eyes on him as he slowly walked up the stairs, causing a warmth to flow through him with each step. _What did he ever do to deserve someone like her?_

Once he was in his apartment, he immediately stripped out of the track suit he had been forced to wear, and stepped into the shower. He stayed in the shower for almost thirty minutes, trying unsuccessfully to wash away the feeling of filth that had covered him since first seeing Dmitri again. He washed his hair three different times and spent at least fifteen minutes just letting the near scalding water rain down over him.

Eventually, the water started to turn cold, so he stepped out of the shower and dried himself off with the softest towel he could find. Looking in the mirror above the sink, he almost couldn't recognize himself. It wasn't that he physically looked different, although he did have almost a week's worth of beard growing. What he didn't recognize was the haunted look in his eyes. He knew that part of the reason behind that look was the fact that he had watched his mother die, and that he had been unable to do anything about it. He also knew, though, that the main reason for the haunted look was the fact that he was going to have to deceive Peter for as long as it took to get Dmitri off of his back. The thought of lying to Peter was almost more than he could take, really.

After a quick shave, Neal put on his most comfortable pair of pajamas and stepped out of the bathroom. His heart nearly stopped when he realized that someone was in the room with him, sitting over in the darkest corner of his living room. Seconds later, he recognized the silhouette and relief flooded through him.

"Mozzie, you're here," he said simply.

Mozzie stood up at the sound of Neal's voice and rushed over to him. For a single second, Neal thought that the short man was going to hug him, but he stopped himself just steps away from Neal. He knew that Mozzie wasn't one for physical contact, so he wasn't offended by his friend's hesitation.

Mozzie gave him the same treatment as June, though, looking him over from head to toe.

"I'm okay, Mozz," Neal said in as firm of a voice as he could.

"You don't look okay. You look like your dog just died. What happened?" Mozzie asked.

"I'll tell you what happened, Mozz, but first we need to talk about Dmitri….."

* * *

Author's note: First of all, I'm so sorry that it took so long for me to post this chapter. Life has been so busy lately, and unfortunately writing always has to be put on the back burner. If I had my way, I would write every single day, but it just doesn't work with my other responsibilities.

Second, I want to address a few comments made by a few reviewers. I truly appreciate every review I receive and I appreciate the opportunity to explain why I wrote certain things the way I did. One guest reviewer commented on the inconsistency in Dmitri's behavior towards Neal. While I know it seems strange, I am deliberately writing the man as inconsistent and unpredictable. I think this is part of what makes Neal so vulnerable around him. Just so you know, I'm trying to make him as consistently inconsistent as I possibly can, lol. Guest reviewer, I appreciate you expressing your thoughts and concerns in such a constructive way. Thank you.

Another reviewer, Deej1957, expressed frustration with the idea that Neal would go behind Peter's back in order to do what he has to do for Dmitri. I totally understand that frustration and even share in it at times, but canon Neal has proven time and time again that he will do whatever it takes to protect the ones he loves. In this story, with Dmitri threatening his friends/family, Neal has no qualms about doing whatever is needed to keep them safe. Even if that means lying to Peter and/or going behind his back for whatever reason. I'm sorry that you're frustrated with this turn in the story, Deej1957, but I hope you stick with it a little longer. I promise things will get better. And I appreciate your honesty in your review.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. I'm hoping to get the next chapter up a little faster. Thanks for reading and reviewing, all.


	28. You've Got Me Treading On The Water

What He Does Best

Chapter 28

* * *

For as long as Neal could remember, he had never seen Mozzie speechless. The man always had _something_ to say, especially when it involved Peter and the FBI. Neal wasn't sure what he really expected of Mozzie, though, to be honest. There was a part of him that thought his friend would jump at the chance to not only pull one over on the FBI, but to also be a witness to Neal's forgeries. Another part thought that Mozzie would want absolutely nothing to do with helping Dmitri in any way at all. But, never would he have thought that the paranoid man would be rendered speechless.

"Come on, Mozz. Take a deep breath and maybe a drink of your wine and focus. I need some help here," Neal said.

Mozzie grabbed his wine and drank half of it in one swallow. Before Neal could say anything else, he gulped down the last of it and poured himself some more.

"Mozz," Neal groaned. "I need you sober, please!"

Mozzie took a smaller drink and then put his glass down on the table. Sinking down into the nearest chair, he finally turned to Neal. "Are you out of your mind?" he asked. "Did Dmitri brainwash you while you were there? Did you drink the Kool-Aid?"

"No, I'm not out of my mind and Dmitri didn't brainwash me. I made a deal with him, Mozzie. It was the only way I could see to get him to release Peter."

"I notice you didn't say that you didn't drink the Kool-Aid," Mozzie said. And then, "Neal, this is a crazy idea, even by your standards. What if you go through with this and actually forge the paintings and fence them? You don't think the Suit is going to find out? He keeps closer tabs on you than a father does of his daughter on prom night. He'll know you're up to something."

"I don't have a choice, Mozz. When I told Dmitri that there wasn't any way to use the bonds, he nearly lost it. I had to use every trick in the book to get him to even consider my offer. He threatened me….. he threatened to hurt the people I care about. I have to do whatever it takes to get him out of my life and I think this is the easiest and the fastest way."

"You think this is going to be easy?" Mozzie asked incredulously. "You're going to have to lie straight to Peter's face, Neal. You're going to have to go behind his back, deceiving him at every turn. Do you really think you can do that?"

"Like I said, I don't have a choice. But, I can't do it alone. I need your help."

Mozzie took another drink. "Of course, I'll help you, Neal. I just want it on record that I find this whole mess distasteful. And I have a bad feeling about how it's going to end."

"Trust me, I find it distasteful, too," Neal answered, choosing to ignore the last part of Mozzie's statement. "So, what piece should I start with?"

* * *

Neal's alarm clock went off at eight o'clock the next morning, causing him to throw his pillow at it in a pathetic attempt to shut it off. Instead, it continued to blare its obnoxious tones until he got out of bed and silenced it. Once he was out of bed, he made his way wearily into the shower. He had only slept for four hours, thanks to the planning session that had gone on for hours. By the time Mozzie left at four o'clock in the morning, with a list of the supplies needed for the painting, Neal was feeling nauseous and was barely able to keep his eyes open.

Once he was out of the shower, he dressed as quickly as he could, giving himself plenty of time to join June for breakfast. Stepping out onto the terrace, he found June sitting at a table, waiting patiently for him to join her.

"Good morning, June," he said as he bent down to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Good morning, Neal." June looked him over from head to toe again. "You still look exhausted. Didn't you sleep well?"

"Not really, I guess," Neal answered. "I had a lot on my mind."

"Well, I'm sure that Mozzie's presence contributed to that a great deal," June chided. "If I'm not mistaken, he didn't leave here until four o'clock this morning."

"I'm sorry if he woke you up, June. His steps can be a little heavy sometimes." Neal tried to redirect the conversation, but June wasn't buying it.

"Neal Caffrey, you were supposed to rest last night. You've been through a lot these last several days and the last thing you need to be doing is planning some mischief with Mozzie!"

"We're not planning anything, June," Neal tried.

"Don't you lie to me, young man. I know you well enough to know when something is going on in that brilliant head of yours." June grabbed both of his hands before continuing. "Please be careful, Neal. I can't bear the thought of losing you."

Neal couldn't tell her that the reason he was doing what he was doing was because _he_ couldn't bear the thought of losing _her_. Or Peter. Or Elizabeth.

"I'll be careful," he promised. "Now, would you mind passing me some of that delicious coffee?"

* * *

Peter arrived right on time and was surprised to find that Neal wasn't already downstairs waiting for him. He still didn't have a replacement phone, so he had to actually get out of the car to fetch his partner himself. June, who was apparently on her way somewhere, opened the door herself, and told Peter that Neal was still upstairs. A minute later, he was standing outside of Neal's apartment, firmly knocking on the door.

"Neal? Let's go," he called. "I told you I'd be here at nine o'clock."

When he received no answering call, he tried turning the knob and was surprised to find that the door was unlocked. _He would have to have a talk with his partner about that. He needed to be more careful with Dmitri still on the loose. _Entering into the room, he looked quickly around, noting that nothing seemed to be out of place. He also noted that there didn't seem to be any sign of Neal.

"Neal?" he called out again. "Neal!"

Seeing that the terrace door was open, he stepped outside and walked around the corner. To his surprise, he found his partner, passed out on a Chaise Lounge near the wall. Even more surprising, the man was sound asleep, as evidenced by the light snoring that could barely be heard.

Peter's first inclination was to yell as loudly as he could right next to Neal's ear as payback for making them late. Instead, he took the rare opportunity to study Neal in such a rare and vulnerable state. He immediately noticed the dark circles under the man's eyes, as well as the sallowness of his skin. He didn't know how he had missed it before, but now it was glaringly obvious that the young man had lost weight. Neal had already been rather thin, so he really couldn't afford to lose weight. Peter thought that he would have to encourage Elizabeth to fatten the kid up some.

Looking down at his watch, Peter realized that they were really going to be late if they didn't head out soon. With that thought in mind, he bent down and gently shook Neal's leg.

"Hey, partner," he said loudly. "It's time to wake up."

Neal mumbled something that Peter couldn't quite make out, but didn't actually wake up. Peter stepped closer, choosing to shake the young man by the shoulder instead. "Neal! Let's go, kid!"

Neal's eyes flew open and he looked around in confusion, until his eyes finally landed on Peter. Within seconds, the confusion lifted and Neal stood up as fast as he could.

"Peter, you're early!" he said with a smile.

"No, I'm not," Peter growled. "It's a ten minutes after nine, Neal. You were supposed to meet me downstairs at nine o'clock, remember?"

Neal looked at his watch, as if he didn't believe Peter was capable of telling time correctly. With a frown, he looked back at the lounger he had been on, glaring at it as if it had personally betrayed him.

"Sorry about that," he said ruefully. "Once breakfast was finished, I still had almost thirty minutes to wait, so I sat down on the lounger. I must have fallen asleep."

The dark circle under his eyes were much more noticeable, causing Peter to wonder if Neal had gotten any sleep at all. "How did you sleep last night?" he asked.

"Not very well," Neal admitted. "Too much on my mind, I guess. How about you?"

"I slept like a baby," Peter laughed. "I'm sure it had something to do with the fact that I knew where you were and exactly what you were doing. Peace of mind is definitely conducive to good sleep."

Neal eyed his partner enviously. "Well, some of us aren't as lucky as others when it comes to peace of mind," he confessed.

Peter dropped his smile and looked seriously at his friend. "Neal, I know these last several days have been hard on you, especially with your mother's death and all. Once we're done giving our statements and helping with whatever they need help with, I'll clear it with Hughes for you to have some time off, okay?"

"I don't need time off," Neal answered, trying a little reverse psychology. Of course, he really did need time off, so he hoped that his lie was convincing enough.

"Yes, you do, Neal. You just lost your mother and you need time to grieve. And I wasn't sure if you were wanting to plan a memorial service for her."

"Peter, I'm fine," he said. "You know that my mother and I weren't close. I've known she was dying for the last year and a half, and it's actually a blessing that it's finally happened. She was miserable toward the end. And there's no need for a memorial service. There's no one else to remember her, really."

"You still need time to grieve, Neal," Peter stated. "She was your mother."

"Yes, she was," Neal agreed quietly. "But that doesn't really change things."

Peter eyed his partner closely, but decided to let the subject drop. "Grab your jacket, kid, and let's get out of here. I don't think we'll earn any points if we're late on our first day back."

Neal grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the kitchen chair and put it on as he followed Peter out of his apartment and down the stairs to the car. There was a part of him that was relieved to be going back to the FBI building, but another part of him wanted to be left alone, so he could get started on the painting for Dmitri.

They were almost halfway to the Federal Building before either one of them said anything. Unfortunately, they both broke the silence at the exact same time.

"Why do you think Dmitri…."

"How long do you think…."

They both laughed at the situation.

"You first, Neal," Peter said.

"Okay. I was just wondering how long you thought this whole 'taking our statement' thing will take."

"It could take several hours," Peter admitted. "They'll want to go through it all several times to make sure that we remember everything. Why do you ask? You have a better place to be?"

"No, of course not," Neal laughed. "I just thought that maybe when we were done I could cut out early and try to get some sleep."

"Hmmmm….," Peter said, eyeing his partner curiously. "I'm pretty sure that Hughes wouldn't mind giving us the rest of the day off afterwards. And Elizabeth wouldn't mind cooking us up a good meal."

"Thanks, Peter, but I'd like to just go home. Try sleeping in my own bed again. Maybe next time, though, okay? I'll take a raincheck."

Peter didn't say anything to that. He had a feeling that Neal was up to something, but he had no idea what it could be. And the last thing he wanted to do was make Neal think that he was suspicious. Whenever that happened, the young man went into extreme stealth mode, making it harder for Peter to keep an eye on him. And Peter knew that he needed to keep a very close eye on him now.

Deciding to change the subject, Peter asked Neal his original question. "Why do you think Dmitri let us go? He had to have had a plan when he took us, so what happened to that plan?"

"I have no idea what he was thinking, Peter," Neal answered. "The few times I talked to him, he never let me in on what his plans were. And then after my mother died, everything changed. Suddenly, he just wanted to drop everything. He thanked me for agreeing to see her and he ordered his men to drop us off in the middle of nowhere."

"That's it? He just changed his mind?" Peter asked.

"Look, Peter, I don't have any idea what he wanted with me, other than that. He said that my mother had been asking for me for the last few weeks and he wanted to give her what she wanted. That's all."

"Do you think he's gone for good?" Peter asked. "Do you really think that there wasn't any other reason that he wanted you?"

"I don't know, Peter!" Neal said in frustration. "The only thing I know is that Dmitri really loved my mother and he would have done anything for her. As far as I know, that's why he kidnapped me. And you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, thanks to me."

Peter pulled his car off to the side of the road and turned to face his partner. "Neal, I don't blame you for the fact that I was taken against my will, okay? You had nothing to do with that."

"Yes, I did, Peter," Neal stated firmly. "If I hadn't called you that night and told you that I needed help, you wouldn't have been knocked unconscious and held captive in that tiny room. Elizabeth wouldn't have been terrified for days on end. The FBI wouldn't have had to waste manpower and money on looking for you. It's my fault."

"It's not your fault, kid. I was so relieved when you told me that you needed help, Neal. I knew that something was going on with you and I was so afraid that you were going to do something that would inevitably leave you in trouble. So, when you called me, I was so relieved. And to be honest, Neal, I'm glad that I was there with you. Maybe having me there made Dmitri slow things down a little, right? He's a smart enough man to know that killing a federal agent would bring down the full weight of the FBI right on top of him."

Neal didn't think that Dmitri would have hesitated to kill Peter if he had reason to, but he didn't share that with Peter. Instead, he kept quiet, not knowing what else to say to the man. Luckily, Peter continued to talk, giving Neal an opportunity to gather his thoughts.

"I know it was hard for you to ask for help, Neal, but I really hope that this is just the beginning of you realizing that I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you. You don't have to go at anything alone, as long as you trust me and have faith in me."

The conversation suddenly stopped and for the rest of the trip, Neal stared out of the window as Peter's words seemed to hang in the air between them.

* * *

Giving their statements did indeed take several hours and by the time they were done, Neal was ready to scream. The interrogator spent so much time on every little detail, leaving Neal with a dry mouth and a sore throat by the time they were done, not to mention the intense desire to throw something through a window.

Peter didn't look much better when they finally met up in Hughes' office. Neal could tell that he, too, was exhausted and frustrated. Stepping into the ASAC's office, Hughes gestured to the two chairs that were sitting in front of his desk, before taking his own seat behind the desk.

"Agent Berrigan said that you wanted to talk to me about something, Peter," Hughes said right away.

Peter threw a quick glance over to his partner who was staring at the stack of papers on the desk in front of him. "Reece, I'm sure you've read the statements that we've made, so you're aware that Neal's mother died a few days ago. I'd like approval to give him a few days off for bereavement."

Neal could feel the older man's eyes on him and forced himself to look up. Hughes seemed to be studying him rather closely. "Of course, Peter," he said quietly. "Caffrey, I'm sorry for your loss. Please let us know if there is anything we can do for you. In the meantime, why don't you take the next several days off and we'll see you bright and early on Monday morning."

"Thank you, sir," Neal returned.

After a few more words between Hughes and Peter, Peter stood up and walked out the door with Neal following closely. Once they were back in Peter's office, he waved his hand at the chair, obviously wanting Neal to sit down.

Neal sat down rather ungracefully, a large yawn disrupting the silence and causing Peter to reevaluate what he was about to say. He was planning on having Neal sketch the faces of some of the men that had been at the warehouse, but now he knew that the young man was much too tired for that.

"Neal, go home. And actually try to get some rest this time, okay? You're exhausted."

Neal wasn't about to argue with the man. He really was exhausted. In fact, he decided that sleep was his number one priority at the moment. Standing up, he stretched his back out before turning back to Peter.

"I'll gladly take you up on that offer," he said. He turned to walk out the door, but then quickly turned back to Peter with a mischievous look. "Peter, remember how you said that I could always come to you for help? Well, how about helping me out with some money for a cab? I haven't had a chance to go to the bank recently."

Peter rolled his eyes as he grabbed his wallet out of his jacket and handed Neal some money.

Taking the money, Neal quickly counted it before looking back up at Peter. "Can I have a little more, so I can grab some lunch, too?"

Peter rolled his eyes again, but handed Neal another twenty dollar bill.

"You're the best dad ever!" Neal teased as he walked out the door.

* * *

By the time Neal made it home, he could barely hold his head upright. His eyes were burning and his entire body was aching significantly. Once he was in his apartment, he wasted no time throwing off his jacket, shirt, and tie. Seconds later, he was toeing off his shoes and socks and stepping out of his pants. Falling into his bed, wearing only his boxer briefs and an undershirt, he was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

When he woke up hours later, he had a few seconds of confusion before his head cleared enough for him to remember where he was and what he was doing. He looked at the clock next to his bed and was surprised to see that it was almost eight o'clock at night. He was also surprised to realize how hungry he was.

Even though Peter had given him the extra twenty, Neal hadn't taken the time earlier to get something to eat. Having not eaten since breakfast that morning, Neal was almost feeling nauseous. He padded over to the kitchen area, wearing only his boxer briefs, but not really caring. Usually, he would throw his robe on or at least his pajama bottoms, but he didn't really see the point at the moment.

Minutes later, though, he wished he would have taken the time to get dressed when the door to his apartment flew open to reveal Peter and Elizabeth standing there.

"Neal!" Elizabeth cried when she saw him standing by the refrigerator. "You're okay!"

"Of course, I'm okay," Neal sputtered in surprise. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"We tried calling you several times on the landline, but you didn't answer," Peter explained. "There was no one here to check on you, so we drove straight over from the restaurant. Why didn't you answer the phone?"

By this time, Neal was walking over to his bed to grab his robe. After he cinched it around his waist, he turned back to the Burkes. "I didn't even hear the phone ring, Peter. I was sleeping, remember?"

"You never sleep that soundly," Peter said.

"I was exhausted, Peter! And how do you know how soundly I sleep? Have you been spying on me? Should I be concerned?"

Peter started to reply, but Elizabeth cut him off. "Boys! That's enough."

They both looked sheepishly at her, not wanting to make her mad.

"Sorry, Beth," Neal offered. "I guess I get a little cranky when people burst into my apartment without warning."

"_We're_ sorry, Neal," Elizabeth replied. "We were just worried that something had happened to you."

"You know, contrary to popular belief, I _am_ able to take care of myself," Neal jested.

"That may be contrary to _popular_ belief, but not to _my_ belief," Peter quipped.

"Peter!" Elizabeth scolded. "Really!"

Before things could go any further, Neal turned to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of beer. He handed it to Peter and then poured Elizabeth a glass of wine. Once he had handed the glass to Elizabeth, he turned back to the refrigerator and started rummaging through it. A few seconds later, his stomach growled loudly enough for his guests to hear.

"Neal, when did you eat last?" Elizabeth asked as she put her glass down and moved to the refrigerator.

Neal gave her another sheepish look. "I had a great breakfast this morning with June," he finally admitted.

"Breakfast?!" Elizabeth cried. "You haven't eaten anything since breakfast?"

Peter was surprised when Elizabeth turned back around and glared at him. "Why are you glaring at me?" he asked.

"I told you to keep an eye on him, Peter. You should have made sure that he ate something today. He's your responsibility!"

Peter and Neal both responded vehemently and at the same time.

"I'm not a child, Beth!" Neal yelled.

"He's not a child, El!" Peter yelled.

"Well, apparently he's not grown up enough to make sure he eats throughout the day, Peter."

Neal passed a quick glance to Peter, trying to tell him that he would handle Elizabeth. Peter sat back in his chair, prepared to let Neal work his magic.

"Beth, I'm sorry, but I really wasn't hungry when I got home. I wasn't feeling well and all I really wanted to do was sleep."

Peter could tell that Neal's magic was starting to work, especially once the young man gave her his signature hurt puppy look. Unfortunately, Peter also knew not to count on Elizabeth to fully fall for any of Neal's cons_. She was much too smart for that._

"Neal George Caffrey, I better not find out that you're skipping meals ever again. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Neal answered softly.

"Okay, then, have a seat and I'll cook you up something," she said as she reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

"You don't have to do that, Beth," Neal said. "I can make something myself."

Seconds later, he was scrambling over to the table, trying to get away from Elizabeth and her dish towel.

"You'll learn not to argue with her eventually, Neal," Peter said with a grin just as Elizabeth snapped her dish towel against the young man's backside. "It's much less painful that way."

"Ow!" Neal howled as the dish towel snapped against his backside for the second time. "Thanks for the warning, Dad."

As he scrambled into his chair, he missed the contented look that passed between Peter and Elizabeth.

* * *

Author's note: Awwww…gotta love the little family moments, right? They're all just so perfect together, especially when Elizabeth is in full on mothering mode. Who wouldn't want to mother Neal every now and again?!

I hope you didn't mind all the fluff. And I hope you enjoyed the chapter. It really didn't go where I thought it was going to, but that seems to be the way of most of my stories. The characters seem to take on a life of their own and just do whatever the heck they want, lol.

Thanks so much for reading. I would love to hear your thoughts on the chapter/story. Take care, all.


	29. Tell Me Lies, Tell Me Sweet Little Lies

What He Does Best

Chapter 29

* * *

Author's note: This chapter is dedicated to joeneal, who always checks up on me if I take too long to update, and to vini, who thinks I forgot that you all are patiently waiting for a new chapter. I promise I didn't forget, vini, but you're welcome to remind me at any time, lol.

* * *

After Peter and Elizabeth left, Neal called Mozzie and asked him to come over. He was surprised when the door opened three minutes later and Mozzie walked in.

"How did you get here so fast, Mozz?" he asked. "Were you hiding downstairs?"

"I wasn't hiding," Mozzie answered. "June and I were sharing a nightcap. What was the Suit and Mrs. Suit doing here?"

"They were having dinner not too far from here, so they decided to drop in and say hi."

"That's it? No other reason?" Mozzie asked suspiciously.

"That's it," Neal answered innocently.

"Hmmmm….Then I wonder what Mrs. Suit meant when she told the Suit that he would be sleeping on the couch if he didn't keep a better eye on you?"

Neal quickly looked away and tried to change the subject, but Mozzie wouldn't let him. Instead, he insisted on Neal explaining what the Burkes were doing there and then spent ten minutes lecturing Neal on the importance of taking care of himself. By the time Mozzie was done, Neal was feeling suitably scolded.

"Okay, Mozz, I get it," he finally said. "But what you all seem to forget is that I'm a grown man who should be able to skip a meal every now and again without his friends going insane. I'm not going to let myself starve."

"Neal, how many times have I witnessed you getting so involved in your art that you forget to eat or sleep? Someone has to look out for you, mon frère."

"This was different," Neal argued. "It wasn't that I was too focused on something else. I was exhausted and my body needed sleep more than it needed food."

Mozzie eyed him closely, but decided to drop the subject. "Well, I'm sure there's a reason that you called me here at ten o'clock at night, right?"

"I've decided on which piece to start with," Neal stated, getting right down to business. "The Raphael."

"Neal, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" Neal asked. "It's been missing and presumed destroyed since the end of World War II. It's the perfect piece."

"Yes, but the Polish Ministry still believes that it survived the war. If it suddenly surfaces, they'll demand it be returned to them immediately."

"That's why we pull a double doppelgänger, Mozz," Neal grinned. "It's perfect. We put word out on the street that we have the Raphael for sale. The FBI and the Polish ministry will undoubtedly be interested, so we give them a copy. After that, we put the word out to potential buyers that it's a doppelgänger piece and that we still have the original. Any serious collector will be chomping at the bit to get their hand on it."

"That could actually work," Mozzie said thoughtfully. "How do we get the copy to the FBI? And do we make it an obvious forgery or do we make it look real?"

Neal sat down at the table as he worked through the rest of the plan. "Getting the copy to the FBI is the easy part. We just set up a sale, using Charlie Shaw as our fence. Word on the street is that he may not be playing fair these days."

"I'm not following you," Mozzie said in confusion. "I haven't heard anything like that."

Neal laughed at the look on Mozzie's face. "Maybe I should have said 'word in the conference room.' I overheard Jones and Diana talking last week about how one of our new agents is looking to fast track his way up the ladder in the White Collar unit. He's apparently prepared to look the other way on some things in order to get information on other things. He's been using Shaw to get that information."

"And that's legal?" Mozzie asked. "The Suit's okay with that?"

"Apparently, this isn't uncommon in cases where the FBI is out to get the bigger fish in the pond. And he isn't doing anything illegal yet, but Jones said they were watching both the agent and Shaw closely. So, all we have to do is set it up with him and let him run to the FBI with it."

"I never liked Shaw," Mozzie said with a shake of his head. "He always felt the need to comment on my follicular disparity."

"Don't worry about it, Mozz. Your lack of hair just makes you look more mysterious."

Mozzie didn't look convinced, but he thanked Neal anyway, before reminding him that he didn't answer his other question.

"As much as I'd like to see if I could fool their authenticator, I think it needs to be an obvious forgery. That way we can pass off the second painting as the original, giving us a bigger pay-off."

"It could be tricky, especially without provenance, but it might work," Mozzie said.

"It _will_ work. It has to."

"Neal….. Are you sure you want to go down this road? Is it really worth the risk?"

Mozzie nearly buckled under the weight of the determined look on his friend's face.

"If I don't help him, he'll never stop, Mozz."

"Who's to say he'll stop even if you do help him?" Mozzie asked. "He's not exactly a paragon of virtue, Neal."

"Well, what do you suggest I do, then? Let him go after the people I care about?"

"I think you should let the FBI help you. Let Peter help you."

"I can't risk it," Neal said dejectedly. "I have to protect them. And since when do you think the FBI is a suitable ally?"

"I _don't_ think the _FBI_ is suitable, but I do believe in Peter," Mozzie admitted. "After the Kramer fiasco and the fiasco with your father, he's more than proven his allegiance to you. I'll never admit to admitting that, though, so this stays between the two of us, Neal."

Neal smiled at his friend, knowing that the man would never admit to the fact that he actually liked and respected Special Agent Peter Burke. "Your secret is safe with me, Mozzie."

After a long pause, in which he looked to be seriously thinking everything over, Mozzie took in a deep breath and slowly released it. "Okay. Where do we start?"

* * *

Peter was surprised when his phone rang at six o'clock the next morning. He had just finished showering and dressing, and was currently sitting at his dining room table with a cup of coffee and a file spread out in front of him.

"This is Burke," he said shortly, annoyed that someone was calling so early. He was also annoyed because he was using his new phone, which didn't have any of his contacts stored yet. He was surprised to hear Neal's voice on the line.

"Peter, it's me."

"Hey, partner, I thought we were clear on the fact that I would pick you up this morning."

"Actually, I was wondering if I could take you up on the offer of taking a few days off. I think maybe you were right about that."

"Of course," Peter quickly said. "I'll let Hughes know. Is there anything you need?"

"No," Neal answered. "I'll be fine, Peter."

"Are you sure? I can have Elizabeth stop in and check on you later."

"That's not necessary. I'm just going to make a few phone calls regarding my mother and then I plan on getting some more rest."

"Okay," Peter said. "Just let me know if you need anything at all, okay? And don't forget to eat!"

After saying goodbye to his partner, Peter turned back to his file, only to be interrupted by his wife.

"Who was that?" she asked. "And why did you volunteer me to check on them later."

"It was Neal. He's going to take a few days off to take care of some business regarding his mother's death."

"Oh, Peter!" Elizabeth cried. "I forgot all about that. What kind of a friend am I? How is he handling losing his mother?"

"I'm not sure, El. His relationship with his mother was difficult and dysfunctional, to say the least. He really hasn't opened up about how he feels about her death."

"The poor boy has lost so much," Elizabeth said sadly. "Kate, Ellen, and now his mother. Not to mention the whole debacle with his father and then with Rebecca. Is he ever going to get a break?"

Peter started to argue that Neal had gotten his fair share of breaks since Peter agreed to become his handler, but one look at Elizabeth had him rethinking. He wisely decided to keep his mouth shut on that particular topic.

When he didn't offer an answer to her question, Elizabeth carried on. "I'm going over there," she suddenly declared. "He shouldn't be alone right now."

"El, what if he _wants_ to be alone. He might just need some time alone to come to terms with everything. I told him to call if he needed anything."

"Peter, you know how he is! He hardly ever asks for help and I can't bear the thought of him sitting all alone in his apartment, grieving for his mother."

Peter still wasn't convinced that her going over there was a good idea. "Hon, Neal is a very private person. And with everything that's happened in the last few days, he hasn't had much of a chance to think everything through. I think we should give him space and wait for him to ask for help."

Elizabeth didn't look convinced, but she reluctantly agreed anyway. "Fine! I'm calling him later to check on him, though."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you," Peter said with a smile.

* * *

Neal spent most of the morning making arrangements for his mother. When Kate died, he had had very little to do, considering that there wasn't a body to deal with, no family to notify, and the fact that he was taken back to prison immediately afterwards. When Ellen died, the US Marshalls took care of almost everything, only including Neal on a few unimportant details. This time was different, though. First of all, he had to decide whether he wanted to bury his mother or just cremate the body. He wasn't planning on having a memorial service, since his mother had no other family besides her son and husband. She also didn't have any friends that he knew of. In short, he needed to decide where either her body or her ashes would be laid to rest.

Having to make such a miserable decision made Neal wish that he would have talked to his mother about her wishes towards the end. It would have been an extremely uncomfortable conversation, but it would have made the current situation much easier.

Once he had everything worked out, he stepped out on the terrace for a few minutes. He knew that his relationship with his mother was complicated, but like Peter said, she was still his mother. He knew there was a point in his life where his mother truly loved and cherished him, even though he couldn't really remember those days. All of his memories were of an uncomfortable, dysfunctional connection with her. Dinners spent in either complete silence or constant arguing. Evenings spent in loneliness and isolation despite both being present in the same room. Days could go by without either of them saying more than a handful of words to each other. Night after night, he would fix his own dinner and put himself to bed, while his mother locked herself in her room with a bottle of wine.

He remembered how he was always the one kid in the classroom whose mother forgot to send in treats for the class parties. He remembered how his mother never made it to any parent/teacher conferences or to award ceremonies, even when he was receiving an award. Luckily, Ellen filled his mother's role as often as she could.

By the time he had been in middle school, Tessa Brooks had all but completely withdrawn from normal societal roles. Other than the evenings she spent at the local bars and taverns, she rarely left the house. She eventually lost job after job when she would just stop showing up for work. Ellen helped out financially and eventually Tessa found a job where she could work from home. Unfortunately, this only allowed her to fall deeper and deeper into depression.

That depression only led to a more robust addiction to alcohol and eventually Tessa was spending most evenings at the bar. Sometimes, days would go by without mother and son crossing paths at all. Danny hadn't minded those days, to be honest. He found it peaceful when he had the house all to himself and he didn't miss the awkwardness he always felt when his mother was around.

Unfortunately, those days ended when Ellen arrived early one morning to find Danny still in bed and his mother absent. She had been furious when she finally gleaned from Danny that his mother often stayed out all night, leaving him all alone. She was rather unhappy with Danny, too, for not telling her what was happening.

Once Ellen had confronted Tessa about her responsibilities to her son, his mother started coming home after spending only a few hours at the bar each night. Unfortunately, she usually didn't come home alone, thus starting the new chapter in young Danny's life where he was exposed to man after man who resented him for getting in the way of their relationship with his mother.

He remember the progression of men, starting with a few that were actually decent to him, but quickly changing to hard core men who scared the hell out of him once his mother realized that she was attracted to the bad boys.

When Danny was eleven years old, something happened to his mother that changed everything. He never really knew what exactly happened, but whatever it was caused a significant change in his mother. Neal remembered coming home from school one day to find his Aunt Ellen waiting for him. She was holding a bag that was packed with his clothes and she told him that he would be staying with her for a while. The only thing she would tell him was that his mother needed to go away for a few weeks. Neal knew now that his mother had accidently overdosed on both drugs and alcohol and had gone into an inpatient treatment program.

Once she was better, Tessa had come back a completely different woman. She no longer went out to the bar and she no longer drank herself to sleep at night. She tried to be the mother that she knew her son deserved, even if she still fell short. Eventually, Tessa even found a job in an art gallery near their home. Danny would often hang out in the gallery after school, doing odd jobs for the owner. All in all, Neal remembered that as being the most stable time in his childhood.

Unfortunately, Silas Dmitri entered their lives shortly thereafter.

* * *

It was almost four o'clock in the afternoon when Neal realized once again that he hadn't eaten anything. He had been painting ever since Mozzie had dropped off his supplies hours earlier, proving his friend right that he could get so focused on his work that he forgot to take care of himself. In fact, he suddenly realized that he hadn't even had a single drop of wine to drink, either.

He had just sat down with a glass of wine and a plate of shrimp scampi when a knock sounded on his door. Opening the door, he was surprised to see Elizabeth standing there, holding several shopping bags in her hands.

"Elizabeth! To what do I owe the pleasure of your company again?"

"Hey, sweetie. I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by."

Neal eyed her suspiciously. "You just happened to be in my neighborhood with two bags of groceries?"

"Fine," Elizabeth laughed. "I wasn't really in the neighborhood. I just wanted to check on you. And I noticed last night that your refrigerator was rather empty. I could have had Peter do some shopping for you, but I thought you might appreciate my choices a bit more."

"Please don't ever let Peter shop for me," Neal begged. "I'd end up with deviled ham and beer nuts!"

Elizabeth laughed again as she started putting the groceries away. Neal helped to unload the bags, surprised to see that she had bought some of his favorite foods.

"Thank you, Elizabeth. I shouldn't have to buy groceries for at least a few weeks now."

Elizabeth sat down at the table, eyeing the plate of food. "Did I interrupt your dinner?" she asked.

"It's just a late lunch," Neal explained.

"Neal, it's almost four-thirty. You haven't had lunch yet? I knew I should have come over sooner."

"You don't have to check up on me, Elizabeth. I've been taking care of myself for a very long time."

"That's not the point, sweetie. You've been through a tremendous ordeal and you're grieving the loss of your mother. I'm worried about you."

"There's no need for you to worry. Everything's fine."

"Neal, it's not fine. You're mother just died. You shouldn't have to go through that alone."

Neal didn't know what to say to make her understand that he was used to dealing with things all alone. In fact, he knew that she wouldn't ever fall for such an idea. He knew his best bet was to just go along with her to make her feel better.

"Why don't you sit down and finish your 'late lunch' and then we can talk?" she said before getting up and pouring herself a glass of wine.

Neal ate as slowly as he could, wanting to postpone the upcoming conversation for as long as possible. Eventually, though, he swallowed the last bite. Before he could get up, Elizabeth whisked his plate away and took it to the sink. Grabbing the bottle of wine, she walked over to the couch and patted the seat next to her.

"Have a seat, Neal. Let's talk."

Neal walked over and sat down next to her. "How's Peter doing?" he asked, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction.

"He's worried about you," Elizabeth answered honestly. "We all are."

When Neal didn't answer, Elizabeth continued. "Neal, I know your relationship with your mother wasn't the best, but she was still your mother. There's a bond there, no matter how tenuous, and the loss of that bond can be devastating. Especially if there is unfinished business between the two of you."

"You have no idea just how tenuous of a bond we had, Elizabeth. And we didn't have any unfinished business. I was able to spend several hours with her before she died and we talked through a lot of things."

Neal was lying, of course. Deep down, he knew that there was still a lot of unfinished business between him and his mother. Unfortunately, he would never have the chance to deal with it now. Elizabeth looked like she didn't truly believe him, but luckily she didn't push it any further.

"Do you need help making any arrangements? I happen to know an event planner that would love to lend a hand….."

"I've got it all covered, Elizabeth, but thank you."

"Neal, I really don't mind helping," Elizabeth pushed.

"I said I've got it covered, Elizabeth," Neal said shortly. Seconds later, after seeing the look on her face, he wished that he could take his words back. He knew she only wanted to help, but he was tired of thinking about his mother. "I'm sorry, Beth. I just don't want to think about it anymore," he tried to explain.

Elizabeth stood up and straightened her skirt before looking at Neal. "I'm sorry if I was being too pushy. Peter told me to wait for you to ask for help, but I just wanted to offer my help. Just in case you were afraid to ask."

Neal leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I appreciate that. And I'm really sorry for being so gruff."

Elizabeth smiled at Neal. "Well, aren't we just a 'sorry' duo," she laughed. Walking over to the easel in the middle of the room, she paused to study his most recent painting. "This is beautiful, Neal. It's a Raphael, isn't it?"

Neal suddenly wished that he had hidden his painting before answering the door. It wouldn't be good if Elizabeth mentioned Neal's painting to Peter just as the forged painting made its appearance on the street. "I've just been painting to relieve some stress," he answered. "I guess it is somewhat in the style of Raphael."

"Well, I think the next time you should try something in the style of Neal Caffrey. I'd love to see that."

"Maybe one day," Neal said with a small smile. "Now, how about a little more wine while we come up with a plan to get Peter into something other than a Brooks Brothers suit."

His heart lightened a little at the sound of Elizabeth's laughter echoing through his apartment.

* * *

Author's note: Thank you all so much for the encouraging little pushes to hurry up and update, lol. I'm really sorry that it took so long, but I've had a crappy few weeks. Work has been absolutely crazy and then one of my son's dearest friends died in a drowning accident. It's been a little emotionally crazy in my house and I haven't been in the best frame of mind to write, unfortunately.

With that being said, I'm really not satisfied with this chapter, but I hope it serves to at least move the story along a little. I guess there has to be an occasional filler chapter along the way sometimes. At least, we got a little Neal/Mozzie and Neal/Elizabeth time, right? More Neal/Peter to come, I promise.

Thank you all so much for being patient and for reading/reviewing. I promise that I will do my best to update in a more timely manner in the future.


	30. High Hopes

What He Does Best

Chapter 30

* * *

Author's note: I wrote this chapter after working all night, so if things don't make sense, please let me know. I apologize for any typos or errors and I hope you truly enjoy the chapter.

* * *

By the time Elizabeth left, Neal was feeling like a complete and total jerk. Usually, conversation with her was comfortable and refreshing, but listening to her talk about how Peter was so proud of him had only served to make him feel guilty and ashamed. _If only they knew what he had gotten himself into….._

Once he had taken care of the kitchen, he poured himself another glass of wine and settled down in front of the easel. Forging this particular painting was a little more difficult than usual, but he had confidence in his ability to paint a convincing forgery. Raphael happened to be a personal favorite of his, so he had spent countless hours in the past studying his technique, honing his ability to capture the very essence of the long-dead artist on a simple canvas.

Almost six hours later, he was pulled out of the place he always went to in his head when painting by the shrill ringing of his phone. Putting his paintbrush down, he walked over to the table and answered it.

"What's up, Mozz?"

"Mon frère, I think I need your help," Mozzie said in an uncharacteristically nervous voice.

"What's wrong? What happened?"

"Nothing has happened…._yet_," he answered. "But, someone is tailing me and I think it may be one of Dmitri's men."

Neal felt anger shoot through him at the thought of Dmitri doing such a thing. "Where are you, Mozz?"

"Well, I was heading to Thursday, since it's Monday, but I'm not about to lead someone to my favorite safe house."

"Okay," Neal said, "get a cab and come here. You can stay here tonight."

"Why would Dmitri have someone following me, Neal?" Mozzie asked.

"I don't know, Mozz, but we can talk about it when you get here, okay? Be careful."

After hanging up the phone, Neal walked over to the bookshelf and pulled down a book. Inside the hollowed out book, he had hidden the phone that Dmitri had given him to keep in touch. Wasting no time, he dialed the only number stored in the phone and waited impatiently for the man to answer.

After five rings, the man finally answered the phone.

"Do you have any idea what time of the night it is, Danny?" the man thundered.

Quickly looking at his watch, he was surprised to see that it was almost two o'clock in the morning.

"I don't care what time it is, Dmitri. I want to know why you have someone tailing my friend."

"I would imagine it's because I don't fully trust you, Danny-boy."

"It's Neal," Neal answered through clenched teeth. He hated how Dmitri was always able to make him so completely furious. "And I don't care if you trust me or not. If I find out that you've hurt him or anyone else in any way, you'll be sorry."

"Oh, I'll be sorry, huh?" Dmitri laughed. "Somehow, I don't feel threatened, Danny. I know how you abhor violence in any form."

"I do abhor violence, Dmitri, but that doesn't mean that I won't resort to it if pushed hard enough. You have no idea of what I'm capable of, but the surest way to find out is to hurt the people I love."

"Fine," Dmitri laughed again. "I'll call my man off of your odd little friend. But, remember, Danny…..you have no idea of what I'm capable of either."

"Oh, I think I do, Dmitri. You've shown your hand too many times for that to be a secret. And that's exactly why I'm doing what I'm doing. I want you out of my life and away from my friends. For good!"

"The sooner you give me what I want, the sooner I'll do just that, Danny-boy."

"I working on it, Dmitri. I should be done by the end of the week. And it's Neal!"

With that, Neal hung up the phone, trying hard to control the impulse to fling it against the nearest wall.

* * *

More than ever, Mozzie felt like they were heading into troubled waters. He surprised even himself with his strong desire to bring the Suit in on what was going on, making him wonder if Hell did indeed freeze over.

Neal, of course, was still adamant that Peter remain completely out of the loop on this particular con. A part of him wanted to confide in Peter, telling him everything, and letting him take over completely, but a stronger part of him knew that bringing the FBI in would only cause more problems for him. He had to protect his family and the only way he knew how to do that was by giving Silas Dmitri exactly what he wanted. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, but in his mind, he had absolutely no choice.

Tuesday morning, Peter called bright and early to check on Neal. Hughes had given Neal three days off to take care of things, so he wasn't actually scheduled to go back to work until Thursday. Peter had no idea what Neal was actually doing with his time off, much to Neal's relief.

"Hey, partner, I just thought I'd call and check on you. How are you? Do you need anything?"

Neal, who hadn't slept more than three hours, sounded awful. "I'm fine, Peter," he answered wearily.

"You don't sound fine, Neal. How did you sleep?"

"Not so well, really. I guess I have a lot on my mind." Neal couldn't help but notice the concern in his friend's voice.

"What do you say I pick you up for lunch this afternoon," Peter offered. "Maybe you just need a little fresh air or something."

Neal started to refuse the offer, but then thought better of it, deciding that it would do him some good to get out for a bit. "I'd like that, Peter," he said instead.

"Good. I'll pick you up around one, okay?"

"Okay, see you then." Neal hung up the phone and then plopped back down on his bed, hoping to get a few more hours of sleep. When he woke up, he realized that it was already after noon, so he rushed to get ready. By the time Peter showed up, Neal had showered, shaved, and dressed in his most comfortable, yet classiest clothes.

"Hey, partner," Peter said when Neal opened up the car door. Neal was dressed in his sharpest clothes, yet Peter thought the man didn't look quite as sharp as usual.

"Hi, Peter," Neal answered as he climbed in the car. "So, where are we going for lunch?"

"I thought I'd let you pick," Peter said.

"It doesn't matter to me, Peter. I'm just glad to be out of the apartment for a while."

Knowing exactly how to get Neal to actually pick a restaurant, Peter suggested several hole-in-the-wall places that had rather bad reputations. He wasn't surprised when Neal immediately glared at him.

"You're kidding, right? Are you trying to make sure we get food poisoning, Peter?"

"Do you have a better idea then?"

"Of course, I do. Let's go to Seamore's. They have great fish tacos and I've been wanting to try their ceviche."

When Peter didn't say anything, Neal continued. "Or we could go to O Ya. They're rumored to have great Sushi. You're buying, right?"

Peter rolled his eyes at that suggestion. "Yes, I'm buying, so we're definitely not going to O Ya. I hear their prices are pretty steep."

"You don't think your expense account covers $150 a person lunches?"

"Definitely not, so Seamore's it is."

* * *

Neal knew that Peter's lunch invitation involved more than just a reason to get him out of the house. Throughout the entire meal, he was waiting for Peter to steer the conversation in the direction he wanted to go, and right as they finished their meal, Peter did just that.

"How are you really doing, Neal? You look tired."

"I'm fine, Peter. I haven't been sleeping great, but I'm getting enough."

"Are you? The dark circles under your eyes tell a different story."

"Come on, Peter," Neal groaned. "I'll have plenty of time to sleep when I'm dead."

"That's not funny, Neal," Peter answered immediately.

"Okay, I take it back then. I'll have plenty of time to sleep when I come back to work."

"Do you need any help with arrangements for your mother?"

"Everything's taken care of. There's nothing left to do."

"What about a funeral?" Peter asked.

"There won't be a funeral," Neal said. "Mozzie purchased a burial spot somewhere near the Rosewood Long-term Care Center and the director of the facility has agreed to make sure that her ashes are properly buried."

"Neal, I can clear it with Hughes and we can make sure she is properly buried ourselves. You shouldn't have to miss out on that just because of your radius."

"It's okay, Peter. I don't feel like I need to be there. I've already said goodbye to my mother."

Peter didn't look completely satisfied with that answer, but he let it drop. "Elizabeth said that you were painting when she was there. I'm glad to hear it, Neal. I know how that calms you."

Peter watched his partner closely when he said that. He wasn't sure exactly why, but he had a funny feeling that Neal was up to something. "Are you painting anything in particular?" he asked.

"Not really," Neal answered calmly. "I've been playing around with a few different techniques."

"Well, El and I would love to see it when you're done. "We're not used to seeing Neal Caffrey originals," Peter said. "It is an original, isn't it?"

"Peter, you wound me," Neal laughed. "I _am_ capable of painting something without it being a forgery, you know."

"Of course, you are. I just know how hard it is for you to control yourself."

Peter nearly laughed when Neal looked completely offended by his words.

"I can control myself, Peter… When I want too."

"You must not want to very often, then," Peter laughed.

"Why would I? Where's the fun in that?" Neal asked. "Besides, it's my job to keep you on your toes, remember?"

* * *

By the time Neal went back to work, he was truly and completely exhausted. Every waking minute had been spent painting and even in his sleep, Neal was constantly thinking about what he was doing. Several nights in a row, he woke up in a cold sweat, after nightmares of unbearable magnitudes.

The first nightmare was of Neal's failure to provide Dmitri with what he wanted, leading to the man's merciless retaliation on those who Neal cherished the most. The second nightmare was of Neal's success in providing Dmitri with what he wanted, which ultimately and unfortunately led to Peter's complete and utter disappointment in the young man. Neal wasn't sure which nightmare had him the most unsettled.

Once back at work, Neal did everything within his power to keep himself focused. He didn't want anyone to question his return to work for any reason at all, especially Peter or Hughes. Instead, he buckled down and did everything that was expected of him, while still trying to maintain his signature Neal Caffrey attitude. He joked around as he normally would and he offered insight to whatever case they were working on whenever he could. All in all, he thought that he was putting on a convincing performance.

When he was home, he spent his time painting and going over the plan with Mozzie. There were occasional interruptions to his time, namely June and Elizabeth checking in on him frequently, and occasionally he would receive a call on his hidden phone, whenever Dmitri felt the need to check in. Everything seemed to be going as planned, though, much to Neal's surprise.

When he finished the first painting, he immediately started in on the second, and by Sunday evening he was finally finished. With his part of the job being done, he sat back with a glass of wine and waited for Mozzie to work his magic.

Monday morning, Neal went to work in an uncharacteristically nervous frame of mind. Mozzie hadn't had any problem locating Charlie Shaw or getting him interested in what they were supposedly fencing. The man was so predictable. After talking with him about the Raphael, Mozzie had followed him and watched as he surreptitiously met with the young agent from the White Collar unit.

As soon as Neal walked into the office Monday morning, he could tell that something was up. Usually, there was a general buzz that permeated the office, however he couldn't help but notice a heightened urgency to that morning's buzz. Junior agents were flitting around the office like small children in a toy store, phones were ringing, and orders were being shouted across the room by the more seasoned agents.

"Hey, Jones, what's going on?" Neal asked as he walked up to the young agent's desk. "Did I miss something?"

Jones smirked at Neal's question. "I'd say so, Caffrey. We just got word that a missing Raphael painting has suddenly surfaced."

"Really?" Neal asked, trying to look interested, but innocent. "There's only one Raphael painting that's been lost, but it was presumed destroyed by the Nazi's. What makes you think this is the real deal?"

"I'm not sure, although Agent Browning's contact says that it looks like the real thing. They're bringing it in right now."

"Where did it come from?" Neal asked.

"Not sure of that, either. Browning's informant wasn't able to identify the seller. Apparently, it was all done using a messenger service. There's obviously a very disappointed seller out there somewhere. Or there will be when they realize that their art is now in the hands of the FBI."

"It sounds like they deserve to be disappointed," Neal answered. "Who would be stupid enough to hand over a painting to a fence without ensuring the payoff first?"

"Well, fortunately they're not all as smart as you, Caffrey. Otherwise, we'd never solve any cases."

"Thanks, Jones, I'll take that as a compliment." Neal said, giving the man a wink in the process.

"Of course you would," Jones said with a roll of his eyes.

"Where's Peter?" Neal finally asked, realizing that the man was nowhere to be found.

"Apparently, he's meeting with Agent Browning, trying to get to the bottom of whatever this is. He asked me to send you to him when you got in."

Neal automatically looked up at the conference room, trying to pick out Peter's form in the mass of agents.

"Not the conference room," Jones said. "Unless you want to sit in on this month's budget meeting. He's waiting for you in the interrogation room."

Giving Jones a patented Caffrey smile, he spun on his heels and headed off to find his partner.

* * *

Peter was trying hard not to get frustrated with the young agent sitting before him, but it wasn't working. He understood the desire to push ahead, to climb up the ladder as quickly as possible, but the young agent's attitude left a lot to be desired. It wasn't necessarily the young man's tactics that were called into question, but his arrogance and overall approach from the very moment he stepped foot inside the White Collar division.

Peter was used to arrogant young men, thanks to his partnership with Neal, but for some reason he found Neal's arrogance much more tolerable. Not that he would ever share those sentiments with him. As he tried to reason why Neal's arrogance wasn't as frustrating to him, the door to the interrogation room opened and Neal sauntered in. Peter noticed immediately that Neal's normal "saunter" seemed more subdued than normal, something which put the veteran agent on high alert.

"Good morning, Peter," Neal said with his usual charming smile.

Peter also noticed immediately that Neal's smile didn't quite reach his eyes like it normally did. In fact, Neal's eyes looked rather dismal and dull. "Thanks for joining us, Neal. Agent Timothy Browning, this is my CI, Neal Caffrey."

Neal stepped forward and shook the young agent's hand, choosing to ignore the holier-than-thou look the man was giving him. "It's nice to meet you, Tim," he said with a cocky grin.

Of course, Agent Browning didn't appreciate being called by a shortened version of his first name, and wasted no time in telling him that. "My name is Timothy, not Tim, but you can call me Agent Browning, if you don't mind."

"What if I do mind?" Neal asked innocently. He quickly changed his mind about teasing Agent Browning when Peter sent a potent glare his way. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "Agent Browning, it is then."

"Neal, take a seat so we can fill you in on everything." Once Neal found his seat, Peter continued. "Agent Browning was contacted by one of his own informant's last night with the news that there was someone looking to fence a very valuable painting…a Raphael, in fact."

"Jones filled me in on a little bit of the case, so far," Neal shared. "He said the painting would be here soon for authentication."

Peter didn't fail to notice the excitement and anticipation on the young man's face. He imagined that same look on Neal's face on Christmas mornings, before remembering that Christmas mornings were undoubtedly unpleasant in the grand scheme of Neal's childhood. He suddenly felt a strong desire to make sure that Neal's next Christmas was one to be remembered.

"Yes, Neal," Peter answered, "I cleared it with Hughes. The Bureau's regular authenticator is out on medical leave, but another expert is on the way. Once he gets here, you'll get a chance to examine it when he's done.

Neal now looked like Christmas had come early for him.

"Agent Browning, do you have any idea who's trying to sell this painting?"

"My informant says that he has no idea, just that he thinks the man is a novice at this sort of deal. The initial contact was done through a messenger and the actual drop-off was done at a secluded, abandoned building by a short individual with curly red hair."

Neal laughed at the idea of Mozzie with curly red hair. "The seller actually gave your informant the painting without proof of a payoff? That's gutsy _and_ ridiculous…."

"Well, whatever it is, it works in our favor," Peter stated firmly. "Can you think of anyone that might fit that description, Neal? Or have you heard any word on the street?"

"Sorry, Peter. Doesn't sound like anyone I know and I haven't heard any chatter at all about a potential Raphael surfacing."

"What about Mozzie?"

"He would have shared that information with me, so no," Neal answered confidently.

"Keep your ears open, then," Peter said.

Neal turned back to the younger agent. "Tim….I mean, Agent Browning, the only description your man gleaned from his meeting was that the man was short and had curly red hair? Nothing else?"

"That's all Shaw told me," Browning said.

"Shaw? Charlie Shaw? Well, that definitely explains the lack of decent observation skills. Shaw never was one for paying attention to his surroundings."

Browning's face immediately flushed when he realized that he had let his informant's name slip. Turning to Peter, he respectfully asked him to disregard that particular slip of the tongue.

"I'm not interested in your informant right now, Browning, but we may revisit that subject later on. At the moment, I want to verify whether the painting is a forgery or not. Once we have that answer, we can focus on other parts of the investigation."

Before anything else could be said, the interrogation room door opened to reveal Agent Jones. As he turned to address his boss, he threw a strange look at Neal.

"Peter, both the painting and the authenticator just arrived. Are you ready for them?"

"Go ahead and show them in, Jones," Peter said, wondering why Jones was looking at Neal in such a curious way.

Neal had noticed the strange look, too, but had no idea what it was all about. He knew that there was a very minimal chance that any of this could blow back on him or Mozzie so early in the process. As he patiently and excitedly watched the painting being brought into the room, he could barely contain the thrill he was feeling. Seconds later, a second thrill shot through him when he realized who the temporary authenticator was.

"Taryn, what are you doing here?" he asked, pleasantly surprised to see the young woman he had met several years before standing in front of him.

The beautiful blue-eyed brunette looked demurely at Neal. "Hi, Neal. You're looking as wonderful as always."

"You're looking even more beautiful than before, Taryn," Neal said with a sensual grin.

Peter rolled his eyes at the obvious sexual tension playing out between his CI and the beautiful, young Taryn Vandersant. "Why don't the two of you catch up later over a glass of wine," he suggested. "We have work to do right now."

Neal stepped closer to Taryn, seemingly forgetting that they were surrounded by several other people in the small room. "Sounds like a date," he said in his sexiest voice. "My place or yours?"

* * *

Author's note: Well, well, well….What do we have here?! A love interest for our Neal? Say it ain't so! Do you all remember Taryn Vandersant from season 1, episode 5 The Portrait? I loved her in that episode and really wished that they would have played out that relationship a little longer. They didn't (obviously), so I added her in on my own. Now, I can make Neal do anything, since it's my story, and I kind of want Neal to have a little stress reliever on the side.

Anyway, I hope you all don't mind the addition of yet another character. At least, she's an already established canon character, right?

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!


	31. As Lies Go, This One Is Beautiful

What He Does Best

Chapter 31

* * *

Author's note: Oh, all ye of little faith…..You seriously crack me up. I can't believe how many of you expressed your dislike of the idea of Neal having a love interest. Let me assure you of a few things before you all decide to stop reading the story….First off, bringing Taryn into the story is definitely part of the overall plot, so bear with me on that. Secondly, this is first and foremost a story of Neal's relationship with Peter and Elizabeth. I am trying hard not to stray too far off of that aspect of the story, just so you know. Last, but not least, doesn't Neal deserve a little pleasure in his current chaotic life? Would you all really deprive him of that? ;)

* * *

Neal was completely surprised to see Taryn again. His previous time spent with her was in the chaotic process of trying to return a stolen painting to its rightful owner. Neal had enjoyed that particular case, not only because it allowed him to put his remarkable skills as a con man to use, but because it had paired him with such a beautiful lady.

If he hadn't been in the middle of his search for Kate, he would have admitted that he was wildly attracted to the young woman. They both shared a love of art, they were both highly intelligent, and as Gerard Dorsett so eloquently stated, they were both beautiful people. Neal knew they would have made quite the couple, if given half a chance.

To his great surprise, it now looked like maybe they would get another chance. He had thought of Taryn Vandersant several times over the passing years, but never seemed to be in a state to look her up. Now, she had walked directly back into his life, and if he still knew how to read a woman, she was very much still interested in him.

Neal wasn't sure how much time had passed while he was thinking back on their previous meeting, but the sound of Peter clearing his throat pulled him back to the present. "Why don't we take a look at that painting?" he asked her with a smile.

Clinton had gently pulled the painting out of its carrier and Neal turned to find it spread out on the table in front of them. Taryn carried her bag over to the table and pulled out several instruments she would need to authenticate the painting. Neal could tell right away that it was his painting, not that he ever really had any doubt about that. _What were the odds of another Raphael painting surfacing at the same time?_

After several minutes, in which Taryn used several different tools from her bag, she stood up with a mysterious look on her face. Turning to Neal, she handed him the tools and stepped aside for him to check out the painting.

"Miss Vandersant, what is your opinion on the painting?" Agent Browning quickly asked.

"I'd like to wait for Mr. Caffrey to finish examining before I explain my findings," she answered. "I wouldn't want to color his opinion, in any way."

All eyes in the room were on Neal's, except his own which were painstakingly looking over every surface of the painting. When he was finally finished, he looked up at the group, not giving away anything by the look on his face.

"Miss Vandersant," Peter finally said, "I would very much like to hear your opinion on this painting. Is it real? Or is it a forgery?"

Taryn and Neal shared a look, and then Taryn finally answered the question. "It's definitely a forgery, Agent Burke, although it's so well done that it's nearly impossible to tell. Do you agree, Neal?"

"I do," Neal answered immediately. "The changes are so subtle, but it's obviously a forgery. The brush strokes are a little too heavy, the color mixture a little too dark to be precise. It's an amazing forgery and whoever painted this is extremely talented."

"And you have no idea who that might be?" Peter prodded as he kept a close eye on Neal's face.

"Not at all," Neal answered.

"I haven't any ideas, either," Taryn added. "But, whoever painted this is wasting their time and talent. Anyone that can forge a painting like this should be painting their own original works."

At that point the conversation shifted to Agent Browning, who was looking particularly disgusted to learn that the painting was a fake. "So, what now, Burke?" he asked.

"Now, we will get in touch with the Polish Ministry and allow them the opportunity to examine the piece. Once that's done to their satisfaction we can move on in the investigation. In the meantime, you should question your informant again. He has to know something."

Neal and Taryn moved over into the corner of the room, distancing themselves from the shop talk that was going on behind them.

"How are you, Neal? You look good."

Neal knew that Taryn was being polite. Truth be told, he knew he looked like death warmed over. "I've been good, Taryn. Had a little excitement a few weeks ago, but all is better now. How about you? Are you still with the museum?"

"No," she laughed. "After our little con fell apart, I felt it was necessary to move on. I'm currently working at the Museum of Modern Art and I'm teaching a few art history classes at the university. Oh, and I'm on retainer with the FBI as an authenticator and expert of renaissance era artwork."

"You look beautiful," Neal said. "Obviously, teaching is good for you."

"I actually really enjoy it," she answered. And then, "I see you're still working for the FBI."

"Yes. And I actually enjoy it, too," he answered. "Most days."

Whatever Taryn was planning to say next was interrupted by Peter joining them in the corner. "Okay, you two…..there really isn't much more we can do for now. What do you say we grab some lunch and the two of you can catch up some more?"

"That sounds great, Peter," Taryn immediately answered. "Neal?"

"Of course," Neal said with a smile. "As long as Peter has no say in where we eat. Trust me, you don't want to put that decision in his hands."

Taryn laughed and Peter glared at his partner. "Actually, Elizabeth is home and has invited the two of you over for lunch."

"Really?" Neal asked suspiciously. "How does she even know what's going on?"

"I called her while the two of you were playing 20 Questions over here in the corner," Peter replied. "She's eager to try out a new recipe she found, so if you don't mind the drive…."

A few seconds later, they walked out of the interrogation room and headed out of the building.

* * *

Neal chose to ride with Taryn over to the Burke's house. The drive was filled with pleasant conversation, both of them falling back into a rather easy companionship. They talked about what each of them had been up to in the last few years. Neal made sure to omit the more painful happenings, but was still able to regale her with funny and interesting stories.

Once they arrived at the Burke's house, Neal quickly introduced Taryn to Elizabeth. Within minutes, the two women acted as if they had known each other forever, leaving Neal and Peter to watch on in a state of bewilderment.

In the short time she had to prepare lunch, Elizabeth had served up a delicious meal…grilled ribeye steaks with arugula, crispy sweet onions, gorgonzola, and an oven dried tomato vinaigrette, coupled with fried julienne potatoes. For dessert, she had made Peter's favorite pistachio gelato and a lime-mango sorbet for Neal.

"Wow, Elizabeth…..that was delicious," Neal said as he took the last bite of his sorbet.

"Thank you, sweetie," she answered. Turning to Taryn, she continued in a faux conspiratorial whisper. "Cooking for him is the only way I can ensure that he's actually eating a good meal. If he's left to his own devices, there's no guarantee."

"Elizabeth, I'm sitting right here, remember?" Neal said grumpily.

Elizabeth and Taryn shared a laugh at the pout that was currently on Neal's face. "If you prefer, Neal, you and Peter could go sit out on the patio while Taryn and I talk some more."

"No way," Neal answered immediately. "If I'm within earshot, there's at least a minute chance that you won't tell her every embarrassing thing you know about me, Beth."

From that point on, thanks to Neal's impressive redirecting skills, the conversation moved into much safer territory. Eventually, Taryn stood up, explaining that she was expected at the museum for a meeting within the hour. Neal stood up, as well, and walked her over to the door. After exchanging phone numbers, he walked her out to her car.

"I'd love to see you again, Neal," Taryn said before giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. "Call me, okay?"

"I will, Taryn," he said, giving her his most charming grin. He watched as she drove away, before turning back to the house with a huge smile on his face.

* * *

Peter and Elizabeth both watched out the window as Neal walked Taryn out to her car. "I really like her, Peter," Elizabeth suddenly said. "I know I don't know her very well, but she seems perfect for Neal, don't you think? Intelligent, easy-going, beautiful….. They would make such a beautiful couple."

Peter figured that his wife was more than likely already making plans for double dates with the unofficial couple, and he knew that he needed to reel her in. "El, they haven't seen each other in almost three years. I think we should back off and give Neal some space on this, don't you?"

"What are you talking about, Peter?" Elizabeth asked indignantly. "Are you implying that I'm jumping the gun on this? It's not like I'm already starting to plan their wedding."

Peter started to answer, but Elizabeth continued. "Although, can you just imagine how handsome Neal would look on his wedding day? And what a beautiful bride she would be?"

"El," Peter groaned, only to be cut off by the sound of the door opening.

Neal walked in and headed straight over to Elizabeth, pulling her into a tight hug. "Thank you, Elizabeth, for a delicious lunch and a wonderful afternoon."

"Anytime, sweetie," El answered. "Now, why don't you help me clean up the kitchen before Peter whisks you back to that boring old office? I'd love to hear more about Taryn."

* * *

Neal was still walking on cloud nine when he returned to his apartment. Unfortunately, the moment he stepped inside, his good mood immediately vanished. He could tell that someone had been in his apartment by the empty wine glass sitting on the table. He also noticed that his patio door was open. Stepping out on the patio, he was surprised to find Mozzie, who was holding a barbecue skewer in his hand, standing directly in front of a very annoyed looking Victor.

Victor was the first to notice Neal stepping out on the patio and he quickly withdrew his gun from its holster. Mozzie took several steps backward at the sight of the gun, bumping into Neal in the process. With a small yelp, he dropped the skewer, not noticing that it fell just inches away from his friend's foot.

"What the hell, Mozzie?!" Neal yelled as he jumped a few steps back. "You nearly stuck that thing in my foot!"

"I'm sorry, Neal, but you startled me. Well, actually, this behemoth startled me when he pulled out his gun."

Turning away from Mozzie, Neal faced his step-father's goon. "What are you doing here, Victor? You're not welcome in my home."

"I'm not here on a social call, Danny," Victor spat out. "Trust me, I wouldn't spend two seconds in the company of your strange little friend, if I had a choice."

"Then, why are you here?" Neal asked again. "What does Dmitri want?"

"He wants his painting, Danny. He said that your time is running out."

"I didn't realize I was on a timer. And my name is Neal, not Danny."

"Listen, Dmitri has a few business obligations to attend to and he needs some money. He sent me here to tell you that if you don't provide him with what he needs by Monday, he'll be forced to show his displeasure in a way you won't like. It's up to you, Danny-boy."

"It's Neal," Neal growled. "Tell Dmitri that he will have his money by Monday. "And now…..get the hell out of my house!"

Victor slowly put his gun back into his holster, gave Neal a tiny salute, and then turned and walked out of the apartment. Once he was gone, Neal turned immediately to his friend.

"I'm sorry, Mozzie. I was hoping that you would never have the displeasure of meeting that particular man."

"He is quite irritating, isn't he?! Definitely an unpleasant human being."

Neal laughed at Mozzie's understatement. "And what were you thinking?" he asked with a laugh. "A barbecue skewer? That's the best weapon you could find?"

"It's the first thing I grabbed," Mozzie explained.

Neal picked up the skewer and walked into his kitchen. "Maybe next time you might consider picking up the twelve inch cook's knife which is stored right next to the skewer in this drawer."

"Hey, I was in a hurry," Mozzie stated. "And maybe next time you might consider not pissing off the gun-wielding henchman of the criminal you're working for."

"I'm not working for Dmitri, Mozz," Neal growled.

"Really?! Then what exactly would you call a situation where you're performing a service for a man who in turn pays you back by letting you live."

"Come on, Mozz! I'm too tired to deal with this right now. And I really need to get some more painting done, now that we only have until Monday. Don't you have something to do or someplace to be?"

"I do," he announced. "And it involves your wine cabinet and a front row view of a master painting a masterpiece."

Neal rolled his eyes at his friend's answer, but did the only thing he could do. He gave in…..

"Pour me some, too, okay?"

* * *

Neal had been painting for at least two hours when Mozzie finally spoke again. He had been sitting quietly off to the side, sipping his wine as he watched Neal pour out his magic onto the canvas. He always found it fascinating to watch as a blank piece of paper or canvas evolved into a beautiful piece of art at the hands of his friend.

Usually, Neal had a routine when he was painting. He didn't like distractions, preferring only the company of his own mind as he worked. He didn't like people watching, either. He occasionally allowed Mozzie the privilege, but only when he was forging someone else's work. If he was painting something original, he chose to do it alone.

Mozzie had always been amazed at how still the man could be for hours on end when he had an easel in front of him. He rarely remembered to drink or eat and often would fall into complete exhaustion once his body had had enough.

The Neal that he was currently watching was a totally different Neal. Mozzie had closed his eyes at one point, allowing the sound of Neal's paintbrush feathering the canvas to lull him into a light sleep. A few minutes later, his eyes flew open at the sound of someone humming.

Looking wildly around the room, his eyes suddenly settled on the source of the humming… Neal. Not only was the young man humming some vaguely familiar tune, he was pacing back and forth with a strange smile on his face.

"Neal? Are you humming?" Mozzie asked incredulously.

"What? Of course not, Mozz. I don't hum," Neal answered defensively.

"You were, mon frère. You were humming. Why?"

"I don't know, Mozz. I didn't even realize I was doing it. Why does it matter, anyway?" Neal asked.

"You're right, Neal….. You don't hum, usually, but you just were."

"Okay, I guess I was humming, then. Last I heard, it wasn't a crime."

"It's not a crime, but it's definitely strange. What happened that would cause _you_ to _hum_?"

Neal walked over to the table and poured himself a glass of wine, before turning to face his friend. "I saw an old friend today," he said with a smile.

Mozzie sat up straighter in the chair, knowing that an "old friend" could either be an actual friend or the type of friend that one really never wanted to see again. "Which old friend?" he finally asked.

Neal sat down in a chair across from Mozzie. "Do you remember the Dorsett case? The stolen Haustenberg that belonged to the young college student?"

"Of course I remember," Mozzie said. "How could I forget your recapping of the Suit's undercover liaison with the French girl? What was her name again? Brigitte?"

"No," Neal laughed. "Brigitte was mine, Peter's girl was Claire."

"Claire!" Mozzie laughed, too. "I would have loved to have witnessed that!" And then with a groan, "Don't tell me it was the curator from the museum?"

"No, definitely not him. I don't think meeting him again would make me want to start humming."

"Then who?" Mozzie asked, his exasperation starting to show through.

"Taryn Vandersant," Neal said matter-of-factly.

Mozzie looked thoughtfully at his friend before realization dawned on his face. "The girl!" he said excitedly. "From the Lambert Gallery. Now I understand why you were humming!"

Neal laughed. "Thanks for understanding, Mozz."

When Neal didn't continue, Mozzie rolled his eyes. "That's it? You're not going to tell me what happened with Taryn?"

"There's not much to tell. Apparently, she's filling in as an authenticator for the FBI. She was there to authenticate _our_ painting, Mozz. And she said it was really well done and _almost_ impossible to tell it was a forgery."

"Maybe you should have worked a little harder to make it look less authentic, Neal. No one suspected it was yours, right?"

"Peter asked if I had any ideas on who might have painted it, but I'm sure he believed me when I said no," Neal explained.

"Leave it to the Suit to be suspicious of you right from the start," Mozzie said.

"Well, I _have_ given him multiple reasons to be suspicious," Neal countered.

"I suppose you're right. Now, on to what happened with Taryn."

"We had lunch with Peter and Elizabeth," Neal stated. "And before you ask, it was Peter's idea."

"Of course it was," Mozzie answered. "I imagine that he's conjured up a plan to push you and the beautiful Taryn Vandersant together in the hope of leading you right into marital bliss. You know…. white picket fences, two and a half kids, soccer games, and PTA meetings."

"Sometimes I don't think that sounds too bad, Mozz," Neal answered honestly.

Mozzie looked at his friend closely, wondering just how honest Neal was being. The young man had always desired the things that he couldn't have, but this time it seemed different. For some reason, the idea of Neal as a husband and father just didn't seem so far-fetched anymore.

"Neal, if that's how you really feel, maybe you should rethink this predicament you've gotten yourself into. Talk to Peter. Tell him everything and then figure out a way to bring down Dmitri."

"I can't do that, Mozz. I'm too far into this now. It's too late to turn back."

"I think on that subject we can agree to disagree, mon frère," Mozzie said as he swallowed the last of his wine. "I should get going. There's a protest tomorrow at the Mayor's office and my voice is needed. I'll let you know if we get any bites on the Raphael."

"Goodnight, Mozzie. Thanks for the company."

* * *

Three days later, Neal was having dinner with Taryn in his apartment. He had finished the second painting two days before and was waiting somewhat impatiently for Mozzie's announcement that he had a buyer. The longer it took, the more desperate Dmitri was sure to become, and Neal knew that a desperate Dmitri was a dangerous man.

Just as he was about to serve up the food, the door burst open, surprising Taryn so much that she dropped her glass of wine. Neal immediately jumped to his feet and stepped in front of his date, thinking that it was one of Dmitri's men. Instead, he found himself protecting Taryn from a very frazzled looking Mozzie.

"What the hell, Mozzie? What's wrong?" Neal growled angrily.

"Neal, we have a problem," Mozzie said quickly.

Neal looked at Taryn and asked her to excuse him, before leading Mozzie into the bathroom. Mozzie looked more anxious than Neal could ever remember seeing him. "What's going on?" Neal asked the minute he closed the bathroom door.

"The Suit's on to us," Mozzie instantly declared. "I don't know how it happened, but he showed up at the exchange site and the buyer barely escaped. The same can't be said for Andy Dunbar."

"Who's Andy Dunbar?" Neal asked.

"He's the fence we used," Mozzie explained. "Rather inexperienced in the grand scheme of everything, but I figured he would do okay. I have no idea how Peter found our trail."

"How well do you know this Dunbar guy? Will he talk?" Neal asked nervously.

"I don't know him at all," Mozzie said. "I found him through a friend of a friend of a friend. And I never met him in person or physically talked to him. All of our interactions were either via untraceable phones or through an anonymous collaborator. He can talk all he wants, but there is absolutely nothing that will point the Suit in our direction."

"Okay, then," Neal sighed. "This isn't as bad as I thought. We can still make it work."

"That might be a problem, Neal. Peter has the painting."

"What?! He got the painting?"

"The buyer panicked and dropped the painting as he was running off. We were within seconds of a successful deal when the FBI showed up."

"This is bad, Mozz," Neal said. "Dmitri is expecting the money tomorrow. I don't think he'll be too happy to hear that we lost the painting."

"Neal, I have a way out of this situation."

"Why didn't you say so?!"

"Because I don't think you'll go for it." After a long pause, Mozzie continued. "You need to tell the Suit what the plan was. If he knows that we have it all set up to get the money to Dmitri, he'll go along with the plan. Once Dmitri has the money, he can arrest him."

"Mozzie, you're forgetting one thing. If I tell him that I forged not just one, but two paintings, he'll have no choice but to arrest me, too. I can't risk that. And what if Dmitri got off on some technicality? What do you think the man would do then? I _really _can't risk that!"

Mozzie was just about to answer when Neal's phone rang loudly. Taking it out of his pocket, he checked the screen to see who was calling. "It's Peter," Neal said.

"Tell him," Mozzie directed.

Neal tried to keep his voice calm when he answered the phone. "Hey, Peter, what's up?"

"We need to talk, Neal," Peter said. "Meet me at the office."

"Peter, it's seven o'clock on a Sunday evening. Surely this can wait until tomorrow."

"I'll meet you there in an hour," Peter said and then hung up the phone.

* * *

Author's note: I know you all still don't have an answer as to what Taryn's role is exactly, but I promise it will all be made clear in due time. And even though I added her to the story, she will not be a major addition. Just so you know.

I'd love to hear your opinion on the chapter. Wasn't it nice to see Neal acting a little carefree and happy for a change?

Thank you all so much for reading. And I sincerely appreciate the concern some of you have shown for the loss of my son's friend. You guys are truly amazing.


	32. Come Away Little Lamb

What He Does Best

Chapter 32

* * *

After settling things with Taryn, leaving Mozzie to happily pick up in his absence, Neal walked out the door. He was uncharacteristically nervous as he tried to figure out how he was going to fix the situation he now found himself in. There was a rather large part of him that wanted to come clean to Peter, but the other part of him couldn't help but remember what had happened the last time he tried to do that. _He couldn't risk Peter being hurt again_.

During the taxi ride to the Federal building, Neal quietly contemplated all of his options. He nearly laughed at the realization of how limited his _options_ actually were. In fact, he really only had two acceptable options: turn himself in and go back to prison, which would put an end to Dmitri's manipulation of him, or do whatever he had to do to make sure that Dmitri got his money.

Once he arrived at the FBI building, he made his way up to the twenty-first floor, still frantically trying to decide what to do. Walking through the glass doors, he was somewhat surprised to see that Peter was the only other person there at the moment.

"Hey, Peter, what's so important that it couldn't wait until tomorrow?" he asked as he joined his handler in the conference room.

"Have a seat, Neal," Peter instructed. "The rest of the team should be here soon."

Neal looked at the papers stacked neatly in front of Peter, trying to discern _something_ that would clue him in as to what was going on. Unfortunately, he couldn't see anything informative. Taking his eyes off of the stack of papers, he realized that Peter was studying him closely. _Too closely for his comfort._

"What?" he asked. "Do I have lipstick on my face?"

Peter sat up straighter and studied Neal even more closely. "Why would you have lipstick on your face, Neal?" he asked. "Were you with Taryn? Or is there something else you need to tell me?"

When Neal didn't answer right away, Peter continued. "Remember what I said on our first case together….. the FBI has a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy."

"Very funny, Peter," Neal answered. "And yes, I was with Taryn. You interrupted what was turning out to be a very promising night."

Peter looked embarrassed for a second, but quickly shook it off. "We have a lead on our forged Raphael. I thought you would want to get in on that."

"Of course, I would," Neal said. "I just think it could have waited until the morning and I'm sure Elizabeth would agree with me."

"Well, fortunately, Elizabeth wasn't home. She went to go visit her cousin in D.C. She won't be back until tomorrow evening, so that gives us plenty of time to flesh out this lead."

Neal didn't find that as fortunate as Peter did, obviously. Just as he was about to say something in reply, one of the elevators opened and Diana stepped out, followed closely by Jones. Within seconds, they were entering the conference room.

"What's going on, Boss?" Diana asked as she plopped a large bag of bagels down on the table.

"New lead on the Raphael case," Peter answered as he rummaged through the bag. "No doughnuts?"

Diana, Jones, and Neal all laughed at the look on his face. "Definitely not," Diana laughed. "Elizabeth made me promise to keep the unhealthy foods to a minimum around you. Said something about your cholesterol levels being too high."

The three of them laughed again at the blush that suddenly colored Peter's face. Without saying anything in response to Diana's statement, Peter started shuffling through the papers in front of him. Eventually, he pulled out a photo and handed it to Jones, who was sitting the closest to him.

"Thanks to Agent Browning's intel, Frederick's team recovered this painting this evening, along with the money from the sale. The buyer escaped, but they were able to take down the guy fencing the painting. He's a new guy in town named Andrew Dunbar. Have you heard of him, Neal?"

"I haven't," Neal said. "But, I'll ask Mozzie if he knows anything. Is he talking?"

"Not really. Says he doesn't know anything about the seller. Says everything was done anonymously. The tech guys have his phone downstairs, but I don't think it's going to tell us anything. He's not the brightest fence I've ever met, but he's smart enough not to make such a rookie mistake."

"What about the buyer?" Jones asked. "Anything on him?"

"Nothing," Peter admitted. "By the time they were within striking distance, he was gone."

"Well," Neal said as he sat up straighter in his chair, "he definitely wasn't smart enough to not make such a rookie mistake. Any seasoned buyer wouldn't have dropped the painting in the process of vacating the premises."

Neal sank back into his chair when all three agents turned to stare at him.

"I didn't say anything about the buyer dropping the painting, Neal," Peter said suspiciously.

Neal immediately realized his mistake and desperately searched for an answer that would turn Peter's suspicion somewhere else. "You didn't have to, Peter," he said a few seconds later. "How else would the FBI have both the painting and the money in their possession? Anyone of reasonable intelligence knows that you don't turn over the money first. I just assumed that the exchange was made and that the buyer dropped the painting as he was running off."

The three agents exchanged another look before Peter continued. "I guess you assumed right, Neal."

"Of course, I did," Neal answered. "So, what now?"

"Next, we have our expert inspect the painting and we come down hard on this Dunbar guy. He says he doesn't know anything, but in my experience that isn't always true."

"And why did we have to come in tonight?" Neal asked again.

"Because I said so!" Peter scolded impatiently. "Now, don't ask again."

"Fine, Dad, I won't ask again!" Neal said, causing Jones and Diana to burst into laughter.

Peter sent Neal what could only be described as a very irritated paternal look, causing Jones and Diana to laugh even harder. Neal just gave him a smug smile, obviously very pleased with himself for getting such a rise out of the older man.

"If the three of you are done messing around, we have some work to do," Peter said irritably. "Diana, I'd like for you to join Agent Fredericks in the interrogation room. Make sure he puts enough pressure on Dunbar without jeopardizing the process. Jones, I want you to coordinate with Browning and the rest of Frederick's team down at the drop site. Make sure to check any traffic cam or private security cameras within a two mile radius. If we can ID the buyer, we have a chance at finding the forger."

"How do you know it's a forgery?" Neal asked.

"We don't know for sure, yet, but I don't think it's a coincidence that two identical paintings surfaced within a week of each other. They have to be connected."

As Jones and Diana left, Neal looked up expectantly at Peter. Peter couldn't ignore the eager look on the younger man's face. Or the excited twinkle in the oh-so-blue eyes. He knew that Neal wanted a chance to inspect the painting and he, of course, would get the chance. Peter very much wanted to know Neal's take on the duplicate painting.

"Why don't you and I go check out the painting, Neal?"

Rising from his chair, Neal followed Peter out of the room. Minutes later, they entered a locked room that was guarded by a young, new-out-of Quantico, fresh-faced agent. Peter exchanged a few words with the young man and then let himself into the locked room. Neal wasn't surprised to see his Raphael painting displayed on an easel in the middle of the room.

"This is it?" he asked unnecessarily.

When Peter nodded, Neal made his way over to the painting. Even though he knew it was his painting, he was breathless at the sight of it.

"It's an excellent forgery," Peter stated. "Whoever painted this is exceptionally talented."

Neal rolled his eyes at Peter's words. "We don't even know for sure it's a forgery, Peter. This could be the real deal, for all you know."

Neal walked around the painting, observing both the front and the back of it, without getting to close to it. Peter stood back and watched, silently enjoying watching the man's process. Once Neal was done with his preliminary inspection, he donned a pair of gloves from the box on the table and picked up a high-powered magnifying glass that was sitting next to it. Stepping forward, he put the magnifying glass up to his eye and methodically checked every inch of the painting.

After almost ten minutes, Peter couldn't take it anymore, so he interrupted Neal's inspection. "Well?"

"It's hard to tell for sure, Peter, but I think this was painted by a different painter. There are a lot of similarities, but the brush strokes on this one are a little more precise, the colors a little sharper, and the fine cracks in the painting seem more appropriate for the era. Also, it will need to be confirmed in the lab, but my uneducated guess is that the oils are pigmented with a lead white and a lead-tin yellow. This was pretty indicative of the renaissance period and Raphael's technique, in particular."

Peter scoffed at Neal's comment regarding his education. The man was definitely the smartest man he had ever met, yet he never even graduated from high school. To say that he was uneducated was a matter of semantics.

Once Neal was finished inspecting the painting, he turned back to Peter, just in time to wait as Peter dug his ringing cell phone out of his pocket. He tried not to listen too closely as Peter took the call from his wife, but he couldn't help but hear the agitation in Peter's voice as he tried to calm down an obviously distressed Elizabeth.

Peter glanced over at his partner and then stepped outside of the room, leaving Neal to wonder what was going on. A few minutes later, he re-entered the room and glared at his partner. "We need to talk," he said tersely.

Neal followed Peter out of the small room. He was anxious to hear what Peter wanted to talk about, but he was also extremely wary. _Did something happen? Did the man expect Neal's involvement? Did he know something?_

Neal quietly followed Peter into his office, taking his customary seat in front of the desk. Peter sat down in his chair, looked at his watch, and then looked over to his partner, unsurprised to see that the younger man looked completely unruffled. The only way that Peter could tell that Neal was nervous was by the almost imperceptible twitch of the pinky finger on his right hand. Peter had discovered this particular tell when Neal had been working against him on the Mosconi Codex case. Neal had no idea that he had discovered this particular tell, and Peter had no intention of ever telling him. _He needed every advantage he could get with trying to keep Neal out of trouble_.

Neal nervously checked his watch, too, wishing that he could just go home. He really needed to figure out what to do next, especially now that everything was falling apart around him. Instead, he kept as still as he possibly could, not wanting Peter to suspect that he was anxious about anything.

"Neal, have you seen or heard anything from Dmitri recently?"

"What makes you ask that, Peter?" Neal asked suspiciously. "I don't think he's going to come anywhere close to me, do you? He's smarter than that."

"Is he?" Peter replied. "Are you sure of that?"

"He's not the most intelligent man I've ever known, Peter, but he's definitely not stupid. What makes you think he's up to something?"

"Elizabeth called to tell me that someone is following her. She was even able to get a picture of the man, so she sent it to me. Imagine my surprise when I recognized the man."

Neal suddenly felt like he might be sick. "Dmitri would never allow himself to be seen, let alone allow someone to take a picture of him. It doesn't make sense," Neal said in confusion.

"It wasn't Dmitri, Neal, but it was definitely one of his men. I recognize him from my time at the warehouse."

"Is Elizabeth okay?" Neal asked.

"She's fine," Peter answered. "Surprisingly, this isn't her first time being stalked by someone tied to my job."

Neal felt even guiltier after hearing that, knowing that ultimately he was the one responsible for several of those situations. Looking back at Peter, he was slightly scared at the look on his face. The man was furious.

"What are you up to, Neal?" Peter demanded.

"I'm not up to anything," Neal answered as convincingly as he could. "I'm trying to help you with this case, Peter. That's all."

"I'm not talking about this case, Neal. I'm talking about Dmitri. I don't think Dmitri is having my wife followed just for the hell of it, do you? He's up to something and I want to know what it is."

The words were on the tip of Neal's tongue. _It's all my fault. I'm the reason Dmitri won't leave you alone. I'm responsible._ Despite how badly he wanted to come clean with the man sitting in front of him, he couldn't do it. He had to somehow go through with his current plan if he ever wanted Dmitri to disappear. He had to do it to keep his family safe.

"I don't know where he is, Peter, but I imagine that he's doing what he's doing to make sure I know that he's close by. It's not like him to give up easily, so I'm sure that I'll hear from him soon."

Neal tried to tell Peter what he wanted to hear without actually lying to the man. For some unfathomable reason, he found it nearly impossible to lie to him. He could misdirect or neglect to mention certain things, but he couldn't bring himself to flat-out lie to the man he had come to respect so much.

Peter looked like he didn't truly believe Neal, but he didn't push it any further.

"Listen, Neal, I realize now that Dmitri is a truly dangerous monster and that he's a persistent man, as well. Nothing of what I know about the man makes me think that he's done with you. He'll be back for you, eventually. You need to be honest with me, Neal. You can't try to deal with this on your own. Is that clear?"

"You don't have to tell me what kind of man he is, Peter. I lived with him for more than five years, remember?"

"Of course, I remember, but I want your word that you'll let me help you with this."

"I can't do that," Neal answered honestly, causing Peter's face to darken in anger and frustration. "I want him to stay as far away from you as possible, Peter. I don't want you involved with him again. It's my fault for bringing you into it the last time and you could have died."

"I don't want you involved with him again, either, kid. It's personal between the two of you and I know that Dmitri wouldn't hesitate to hurt you. I can't let that happen. You're my responsibility."

"I'm a grown man, Peter. I can take care of myself."

"Can you?" Peter asked angrily. "Because if I'm remembering correctly, it wasn't that long ago that you were lying in a hospital bed fighting for your life. It wasn't that long ago that we were all sitting at your bedside, not sure if you were ever going to wake up again. Was that you taking care of yourself?"

"I don't want you involved," Neal repeated less stubbornly.

"It's too late for that. I'm already involved."

Neal knew he had no choice but to give in, at least on the surface. "Fine," he said. "If I see Dmitri or hear from him, I'll let you know. Now, can we call it a night? Maybe I can still salvage something of my date with Taryn."

"Fine," Peter conceded. "But, I have your word now. Don't let me down, kid."

* * *

When Neal arrived back home, Taryn and Mozzie were sitting on his couch, sipping rather large glasses of wine. Neal was surprised to see how at ease they looked with each other.

"You're back," Taryn said with a big smile.

"I'm sorry I had to leave so suddenly, Taryn. I'm glad you waited for me."

"Well, I had some interesting conversations with Mozzie while you were gone. Did you know that the government implementation of water fluoridation is a plot to pacify people so that they more easily trust authority and to make them submissive to those in power? Or that the Apollo moon landings were staged?"

Neal just barely contained his laughter. "I've heard those theories a few times myself," he said. "From Mozzie, of course."

Taryn laughed softly as she pulled closer to Neal. Her breath tickled his neck as she whispered in his ear. "You're a good man, Neal Caffrey. With very interesting friends….."

Neal turned his attention to Mozzie. "Thanks, Mozz, for keeping her company while I was gone. I'll take it from here."

"But we were just getting started, Neal. I was just starting to tell her about the idea of predictive programming and how the government is brainwashing us through subliminal messaging."

"I'm sure she would love to hear all about that someday, but not tonight. We have a date to finish."

"But…"

"Mozz!" Neal stepped forward and took the glass of wine out of his friend's hand. "Go home. I'll talk to you in the morning."

With a gentle shove, Neal pushed Mozzie towards the door. The man turned to say something, but Neal cut him off. "Goodnight, Mozz."

Without another word, he closed the door behind his friend and turned back to Taryn.

"Now, where were we?"

* * *

Author's note: Sorry for the late update, but I've been on vacation with my family. A whole week of sitting by the pool and soaking up the sun was just the rejuvenation I needed.

This chapter is a little shorter than normal, but I thought I would go ahead and post it. I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear your thoughts on it. And by the way, I recently received several rather long reviews on one of my other stories where the reviewer had several questions/concerns about certain things. I truly enjoy reading reviews and I always like to be able to explain why I've written things in certain ways. Unfortunately, this particular reviewer posted as a guest, so I couldn't reply. If possible, or if you have questions that you would like an answer to, please try to log in before posting. That way I can answer any questions or concerns.

Thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, and for sticking with this story. You guys are awesome!


	33. Feels Like The End

What He Does Best

Chapter 33

* * *

Taryn left rather late Sunday night, leaving Neal feeling more satisfied than he had felt in a long time. When the phone rang shortly thereafter, he wasn't surprised to hear the voice of his step-father. Silas Dmitri was one very unhappy man. Not to mention extremely angry. Neal knew that he wasn't going to take the news of both the painting and the money being confiscated by the FBI very well, but he underestimated the desperation of the man. Now being witness to that desperation, Neal was curious. _What exactly was making Dmitri so desperate?_

He knew that the man was obsessed with money, but his reaction was more than just that alone. He was truly despairing. Neal had to use every smooth talking trick he knew to get Dmitri to realize that they weren't done for yet, that Neal still had a plan. Not that he really did have a plan, of course, but he was working on it with his own sense of desperation.

Dmitri had, of course, been ready to immediately send his men after Peter and Elizabeth to teach Neal a lesson. Fortunately, and to his great relief, Neal was able to talk him out of such a brash action. Neal convinced the man that he had an inside track to the money and the game wasn't over yet.

Once Neal hung up the phone with a new deadline ringing ominously in his ear, he commenced pacing in his apartment, racking his brain for an idea of how to proceed. A part of him wanted to call Mozzie over to help him brainstorm, but he knew that his friend would just continue to push the "let the Suit handle it" angle. He wasn't ready or willing to do that just yet.

Neal had no idea how long he had been pacing, so he was surprised when a knock sounded on his door. Opening it, he was relieved to see that it was June.

"Hello, dear," she said as she walked in past him.

"June, how are you?"

"I'm fine, Neal, but I'm not so sure about you." When Neal looked at her quizzically, she continued. "You've been pacing the floor up here for at least an hour, dear. Is there something I can do for you?"

Neal laughed. "I'm sorry, June. I didn't mean to bother you."

"You weren't bothering me, Neal. I'm just concerned. Something has you all worked up."

"It's just a case we're working on," Neal admitted. "Has me a little worried."

"Maybe you should call Peter," June suggested. "You two always work so well together."

"I don't want to bother him with this, though," Neal answered. "It's something I need to figure out on my own."

June didn't look completely convinced, especially knowing Neal's record in working things out on his own. "If it's a case you're working on, I'm sure he wouldn't mind," she tried.

"I'll think about it," Neal conceded, though having no real intention of doing so. "In the meantime, why don't you have a seat? You and I haven't talked in a while."

He really didn't have the time to chat with June, but he felt that he owed her the common courtesy of a short visit. In fact, he owed her so much more than that. He owed her his life.

"I'd love to, dear, but it's past my bedtime. I'll take a raincheck, if that's okay?"

"Of course," Neal answered as he leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "In fact, why don't I cook dinner for you Saturday night?"

"I would love that. Goodnight, Neal."

With that, June turned around and walked out the door, leaving Neal to wonder how he could be both so fortunate and unfortunate at the same time.

* * *

Monday mornings were never Neal's favorite day, mostly because Peter was usually in an overly enthusiastic state of being. Neal had once questioned his partner on what it was about Monday mornings that had him so galvanized, and he vowed never to ask again once he heard Peter's answer. Suffice it to say that Neal never again wanted to hear Peter talk about how spending the weekend with Elizabeth was rejuvenating and exhilarating in so many ways.

Despite everything with Dmitri, Neal was feeling rather exhilarated himself after his evening with Taryn, but he was able to keep it under wraps. Or so he thought. He obviously didn't take into consideration the fact that both Jones and Diana were overly observant.

"Hey, Caffrey," Diana said. "Looks like you had a good night after you left here."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Neal answered coolly.

"I think she's referring to the extra pep in your step, Caffrey," Jones offered.

"Still don't know what you're talking about," Neal replied.

"Come on, Caffrey, it's obvious that you've got something going on with this Taryn woman. Fess up…."

"Since when do I ever confess to anything, Diana? You should know me better than that by now."

With that, Neal turned and walked away, heading over to his desk. Fortunately for him, Peter was already in a budget meeting, leaving him free to pretend to work on a few cold cases he had been reviewing. Instead, he leafed through the case files, while his mind worked over his current problem.

By the time the budget meeting was over, he had an idea of how to deal with Dmitri.

* * *

Peter found his partner with his head buried deep in what looked to be a mortgage fraud case file. He knew how much Neal hated mortgage fraud cases, so he was surprised that the man was willingly perusing the file.

"Anything interesting?" he asked, causing Neal's head to shoot up in surprise. It wasn't often that he was able to sneak up on his partner, who usually had an almost inhuman awareness of his surroundings.

"Not yet," Neal answered. "Anything interesting in your meeting?"

"Not unless you count the twenty minutes I spent trying to convince Hughes that it was indeed necessary for you to expense the rental of an Alfa Romeo last month."

"Hey," Neal laughed. "You're the one that sent me in as a multi-millionaire tycoon with a pension for Italian racing cars. I couldn't go in with the model the FBI provided, Peter. It was too old, too unimpressive, and it was a Peugeot."

"Hey, Peugeots are nice cars," Peter defended.

"They are, but they're also French," Neal answered. "I was supposed to like Italian cars, remember?"

"It doesn't matter, anyway," Peter replied. "D.C. was just happy that we closed the case so easily. Don't get any ideas, though. Hughes wasn't too happy that you went behind our backs and did your own thing."

"Fine," Neal said with a grin. "The next time I'll make sure to clear it with you first."

Peter rolled his eyes, knowing that Neal wouldn't be able to keep his word on that for too long. Everyone knew that he totally lacked any kind of impulse control.

"I have another meeting this morning, so just continue working on whatever you're working on," Peter instructed. "We can reconvene after lunch."

Neal was relieved to find that he had more time to work on his plan. He needed to make sure that he had every aspect covered, that he had planned for every contingency.

* * *

Peter was sitting in his office when an unusually ruffled looking Neal entered. The young man's hair was disheveled, his tie undone, and his shirt rumpled. He also had a slight sheen of sweat covering his face.

"What happened to you?" Peter immediately asked.

"I had a little run-in with Dmitri at lunch."

Standing up, Peter looked Neal over worriedly. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine, Peter. Just wrestled a little with one of his men when I refused Dmitri's request to get into his car."

"What did he want?"

Neal sat down in the chair in front of Peter's desk. "Listen, Peter, I really want to tell you, but I'm not sure it's a good idea. Dmitri threatened both you and Elizabeth."

"I can protect Elizabeth, Neal. And I can protect myself. You need to tell me what he wants."

"It was him, Peter. He was the one that was trying to fence the Raphael."

"Why would he do that? Art Forgery isn't his normal forte."

"I don't know," Neal answered. "But, he isn't happy with the fact that the FBI now has his painting and his money."

"What did he want with you?"

Neal hesitated, but eventually continued. "He thinks I can get to the painting. Steal it back for him."

"What good would that do him? He has to know it's a forgery, right?"

"It doesn't matter, Peter. There are people out there who will pay well for a good forgery. He won't have any trouble selling it, especially now that there's a good story behind it. It's like a bragging point to some people."

Neal noticed the look on Peter's face and knew that he still wasn't quite convinced. "This is our chance, Peter. He's desperate for the money, for some reason. We'll probably never get another chance like this."

"I don't like it," Peter stated. "I don't like the thought of you anywhere near him."

"I can handle it, Peter."

Peter paced impatiently in the small space behind his desk. "I still don't like it, but I don't see how we can pass up the opportunity. That bastard beat the hell out of you and had someone stalking my wife. I want him behind bars."

Neal felt relief shoot through him at his partner's words. He was telling the truth when he told Peter that the forged painting could still bring in a lot of money for whoever possessed it. If his plan worked, Dmitri would get his painting, which would lead to him getting his money. Maybe then he would leave him alone.

"So, when can I get the painting?" he asked, anxious to get started.

"I have to clear it with Hughes first, Neal." Peter said.

"Okay," Neal answered, expecting Peter to leave the office to talk to Hughes. When he didn't, Neal cleared his throat impatiently. "What are you waiting for?" he finally asked.

"Hughes is out of the office until tomorrow. I'll talk with him in the morning," Peter explained.

"We can't wait, Peter! Dmitri wants his painting by tonight."

"That's not possible, Neal. And I don't think that waiting until tomorrow is too much to ask."

"Peter, I'm supposed to hand over the painting tonight at midnight. If I show up empty-handed…"

Peter looked at his watch and then over to Hughes's office. "Let me make a phone call. Gather the rest of the team and have them meet us in the conference room. And get yourself cleaned up a little."

* * *

Once they were settled in the conference room, Neal filled the rest of the team in on what had transpired with Dmitri. None of them looked overly impressed with the plan, but they were all equally eager to see Dmitri get what he deserved. The memory of Neal lying so helplessly in that hospital bed was still fresh in their minds. They also couldn't forget how lost and forlorn Peter had been without his partner.

After looking at the plan from several different angles, they made a few improvements to it. They didn't know where the drop was going to happen, so they couldn't actually do much more. Of course, they all realized that Dmitri was unlikely to be present for the drop, so they were trying to figure out the best way to get to him.

"Well, we can put a tracker on the painting," Diana said. "Then, after you make the drop, we just sit back and follow the painting right to Dmitri."

The other agents started to agree with her idea, but Neal quickly stopped them in their tracks.

"He would expect the FBI to do something like that, so that's not an option. He would most likely make sure that the painting never came anywhere near him anyway."

"We could still follow the painting, though," Diana continued. "If anything, maybe whoever he uses to fence it won't be as tight-lipped as Andy Dunbar."

"That's a possibility," Neal answered. "But, he'll be smart about who he picks to fence it. And he'll be even more careful this time. I don't think we'll get the same chance again."

Peter arrived a few minutes later and they all filled him in on what they had discussed. Neal couldn't help but notice the look of relief that crossed his partner's face once they were done.

"Peter? Why do you look relieved? Did you figure something out?" Neal asked his partner.

"No. Well, technically yes," Peter answered. "If Dmitri isn't going to be at the drop-off, there's no point in you being involved with it. We can have someone else make the drop."

"No way," Neal answered immediately. "It has to be me, Peter."

"It doesn't," Peter argued.

"Peter, we're in this mess because of me. I can't let anyone else risk themselves like that."

"We're talking about FBI agents, Neal. Agents who have been specially trained for situations such as this… unlike you."

"I'm better prepared than most of your FBI agents in situations like this, Peter, and you know it!" Neal exclaimed. "Besides, I'm sure that Dmitri will insist that I'm the one that hands over the painting. He always wants me in the thick of things, remember?"

"How could I forget?!" Peter replied angrily. "I was the one that helped hold everything together after he nearly killed you, remember?"

Jones and Diana shared a look, not liking where the meeting was heading. Both Peter and Neal could be extremely stubborn, especially when it involved something so personal. The two younger agents both knew that Peter would undoubtedly win this argument, but Neal was definitely a force to be reckoned with and not to be underestimated.

There was an awkward silence in the room after Peter's last words. Several long seconds later, Neal broke the silence. "Peter, I _need_ to do this. Please…."

Peter looked like he wanted to argue his position more, but instead he dropped down into a vacant chair at the head of the table, looking for all the world like a little boy that had lost his puppy. Turning his eyes back to his team, he firmly spoke.

"Okay, so what are we going to do to keep Neal safe? Any ideas?"

* * *

Once they had hammered out their plan, Neal made his way home. He told Peter that Dmitri would be calling him later on that night to insure that he was able to get the painting. Once it was confirmed that Neal had the painting, they would settle on the next part of the plan.

Neal wasn't surprised to find Mozzie waiting for him in his apartment. In fact, he would have been disappointed if the man wasn't there. Mozzie seemed to have an uncanny skill of knowing when his services were needed, much to Neal's current relief.

"Mozz, I'm glad you're here," Neal said immediately. "I need your help."

"Of course, you do," Mozzie answered. "Why else would I be here, mon frère?"

"Mozz, it's happening tonight. We're going to meet with Dmitri's men to turn over the painting. I'm going to need a distraction."

"Wait…..what? What do you mean you're turning over the painting? The FBI has it, don't they?"

"Yes….for now. That's why I need a distraction."

"Neal, I'm confused. You need me to distract the FBI so you can steal the painting?" Mozzie asked.

"Not exactly. I need you to distract the FBI so I can successfully make the handoff. The team will be watching me and once the handoff is done, they'll move in and take them down. That can't happen, so I need a distraction."

"Neal," Mozzie started.

"Don't "Neal" me, Mozz. We've talked about this before and it's the only way."

"I don't like it," Mozzie said.

"You don't have to _like _it. You just have to do it….. For me."

"When do you need this distraction?"

"I'll let you know as soon as I talk to Dmitri," Neal answered as he grabbed the extra phone from his bookcase.

Mozzie listened as his friend dialed the phone and finally spoke to the man that was making his life hell. The conversation was short and Neal looked more determined than ever when he hung up the phone.

"Okay, you have until midnight to come up with a plan," Neal said as he turned back to Mozzie. Sitting down at the table, he explained to Mozzie where the drop was going to happen. Twenty minutes later, Mozzie left to go and check out the site, telling Neal that he would be in touch. Neal picked up his own phone to call Peter.

Things were finally in motion.

* * *

Thirty minutes before the drop was supposed to happen, Peter and Neal arrived at the place where the surveillance van was set up. Peter looked around, taking in every aspect of the area around them, before finally climbing into the van. Neal dutifully followed.

"Are we all set?" he asked Diana and Jones, who had been in the van for the last hour. "Line of sight intact on all sides of the building?"

"With the amount of time we had to set up, it's as good as it's going to get, Boss," Diana answered.

"What does that mean? I'm not sending Neal in if we don't have clean lines of sight."

"There's a small operational blind spot on the west side of the building," Jones explained. "A small alcove in the corner where the cameras don't quite penetrate, but we checked it out, Peter. There aren't any doors or any other point of access that we can tell."

Peter looked at Neal. "I don't like it, Neal, so stay away from the alcove."

"I'll do my best, Peter."

"Anything else?" Peter asked his agents.

"We have agents stationed at both ends of the street, Boss. The only other avenue of escape is the dock on the north side of the building. We have eyes on that, too."

"It sounds good, Peter," Neal stated. "We're ready."

"I'm not so sure," Peter answered shortly. "I feel like we're missing something."

"We're not missing anything. Everything is in order. We're ready."

Peter didn't say anything more, choosing instead to check everything over once more. Neal couldn't remember ever seeing Peter look so uncomfortable in the van. Usually, he was supercharged and competent, serene in the fact that he was Special Agent Peter Burke. None of them were sure of what to make of the Peter standing before them.

When it was almost time for Neal to head out, Peter's nervousness intensified.

"You're sure that Dmitri doesn't suspect anything?" he asked.

"Peter, I already told you. Dmitri knows that I want him out of my life for good. I told him that this was the only way to make that happen. I told him that I couldn't take the chance of him getting off on some technicality in court."

Peter handed Neal the watch that he always wore on these cases. "Make sure this is on at all times. I don't want to lose contact with you at any time. And remember to stay away from the alcove. And if at any time you feel like you need help, remember to say the take down phrase."

"I got it, Peter."

"What is it, Neal?"

"What's what?" Neal asked in confusion.

"The take down phrase," Peter answered.

"Come on, Peter. I know what I'm supposed to say."

"I want to hear you say it," Peter continued. "Humor me."

Neal rolled his eyes. "Fine. The moon is exceptionally bright tonight," he said sardonically.

"That's not it," Peter growled. "It's "The moon is really bright tonight.""

"Oh, come on, Peter. I'm pretty sure even the Harvard crew wouldn't be confused if I used a different adjective."

"I need you to focus, Neal. Everything has to go just right. No mistakes, is that clear?"

"Crystal," Neal replied.

"I'm serious, Neal. I need you to be at your best. Too much is at stake here."

Neal laughed. "It's just a forged painting, Peter."

"I'm not talking about the painting." Peter looked around in embarrassment, his face suddenly flushed. Neal almost had to lean forward to hear his next words. "I'm talking about you, kid."

"I'll be fine, Peter," Neal tried to assure him. "This isn't my first rodeo, you know."

"Don't remind me," Peter croaked.

Neal looked down at his watch. "I need to go," he said. "It's almost time."

Peter watched as Neal took the painting from Jones and stepped toward the door of the van. Peter grabbed his arm just as he was about to go down the steps. "Be careful…." he said quietly.

"Quit worrying, Dad. I'll be fine."

With that, Neal stepped out of the van.

* * *

Author's note: Sorry for the late update. I just spent several days in Seattle, seeing Taylor Swift with my daughter, and then had to get back to work. I think I'm back to my normal schedule, so my updates should hopefully get back to normal.

I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations, because I really had a hard time with it. I give Kudos to the White Collar writing team, because planning these little capers isn't as easy as it seems. Sheesh!

Anyway, I had a reviewer say that the story seemed to be dragging, so I hope this chapter serves to move the story along a little. Big things will be happening soon, so please hang in there.

Thanks so much for reading. I would love to hear your thoughts on the chapter/story.


	34. Something Wicked This Way Comes

What He Does Best

Chapter 34

* * *

Neal walked away from the van with his mind spinning in several different directions. He wasn't too concerned with the current plan actually, because he really felt that Dmitri wouldn't try to double cross him. Dmitri wanted the painting….. Neal wanted Dmitri to have the painting. Plain and simple, or so he thought. Of course, a great big part of his plan depended on two things….. First, Mozzie had to successfully provide a decent enough distraction to throw a whole van load of FBI agents off their game for a few minutes. Second, Peter needed to continue thinking that everything was going exactly as planned. He couldn't suspect that Neal was up to something or the whole thing would fall apart.

Not knowing what Mozzie had planned as a distraction was a little off-putting for Neal. As he walked away from the van, he surreptitiously surveyed everything around him, looking for whatever it was that Mozzie was doing. So far, he hadn't seen or heard anyone or anything. Other than the van behind him and the other agents stationed somewhere in front of him, he was all alone.

Just as he was about to reach the building where the meeting was about to take place, his phone rang loudly in the quiet night. Taking it out of his pocket, Neal answered it. At the same time, he shut off the transmitter on the watch.

"Who is this?" he demanded when he didn't recognize the number.

"What are Burke and the rest of his goons doing here, Neal? What are _you_ doing?"

The sound of Dmitri's voice echoed in Neal's ear. "I'm trying to get the painting to you, Dmitri! This is the only way I could get it out of the Federal building."

"How do I know you're not trying to double-cross me?"

"Come on, Dmitri. How many times do I have to tell you that I'll do anything to get you out of my life?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone, making Neal question whether or not they had been disconnected. Eventually, though, Dmitri's voice reappeared.

"I can't imagine that this is going to work, boy."

"Well, we'll never know if you don't let me get on with it, will we?" Neal asked angrily. "I'm right in the middle of this, Dmitri. I don't have time to talk, so if you want the painting, you'll hang up the phone and let me get on with it."

"One of these days, boy, I'm going to teach you to hold that tongue of yours and SHOW ME SOME RESPECT."

"I wouldn't count on it," Neal answered. Without another word, he hung up the phone, not caring a single bit that he had pissed the man off again. Instead, he turned his attention to the shadow that had just appeared to the left of him.

* * *

Peter watched as Neal walked away from the van. He had a bad feeling that things weren't going to turn out as planned and he couldn't help but think that Neal himself might have something to do with it. He didn't for a single second think that Neal was in cahoots with Dmitri for the money. He knew that there was only one reason that Neal would ever willingly work with the man that he hated so much…. To be clean and clear of him forever. That was it. That was everything. Nothing more, nothing less.

For some reason, knowing that didn't go a long way in making him feel better. Neal was hands down the smartest man he had ever known, but he notoriously made bad decisions when it came to the people from his past. Peter knew that there was a lot of bad history between Neal and Silas Dmitri and he knew that Neal was desperate to never let his step-father get the best of him again.

When Peter thought about what the young man had gone through in his lifetime, his heart nearly broke. Not only did his step-father treat him cruelly, but his own flesh and blood father didn't care enough to do right by him, either. _What does that do to a man's psyche? To his feelings of self-worth? _Peter realized now the impact these things must have had on Neal's development. He knew now why the man had no reservationsabout doing the daredevil stunts that scared the hell out of everyone around him. _He didn't value his own life. Neal didn't feel that his life was worthy or significant._

This realization had awakened a new feeling in Peter and he suddenly found himself worrying incessantly for his partner. He trusted Neal to have his back in any situation, of course. He knew that the young man would do anything to keep those he cared about safe and sound, but the truth was that he couldn't trust him with his own life. Neal was infamous for being self-sacrificing to a fault.

And Peter was completely and utterly afraid that that self-sacrificial trait would come to light sometime in the very near future.

* * *

Neal wasn't surprised to see Victor step out of the shadows to his left. He wasn't surprised to see the gun in his hand, either. However, he was completely surprised by what happened next. In hindsight, he would probably make it a point to make sure that he and Mozzie were on the same page the next time, because Mozzie's "distraction" messed everything up.

Just as Neal stepped forward, a very large blast sounded behind him. The blast was big enough to make the ground shake, causing Neal to nearly lost his balance.

"What the hell was that?!" Victor yelled as he looked wildly around.

In the general chaos of the blast, Neal noticed the hidden FBI agents suddenly shooting out of their hiding places. He could hear the voices of multiple agents coming from all directions, but before he could figure out what to do, Victor was pulling him back into the shadows. In his haste to stay on his feet, Neal accidently let go of the painting. He tried desperately to pull out of Victor's grip, so that he could retrieve the painting, but the man was oblivious to the fact that there was a problem. He thought that Neal was just being uncooperative, so he worked even harder to stay in control of him.

Several times, Neal nearly jerked loose from the man's grasp, but Victor would quickly regain control. Neal made a mental note to start working out more often and to cut back on the delicious desserts that June often brought to him in the evenings.

As Neal tried to look behind him, Victor pulled him into the very alcove that afforded the only operational blind spot for the FBI. Within seconds, he pulled up short and made quick work of exposing a hidden trap door in the small space, never letting go of Neal's arm for a single second. Without further ado, he pushed Neal down into the dark space, obviously not caring if the young man hurt himself.

* * *

Peter had no idea of what the hell had just happened. One minute he had been watching Neal make his way to the drop point on the monitors in the van and the next minute he had been knocked to the floor of the van by a huge blast.

Once he regained his footing, he immediately ordered his agents to figure out what had happened. Turning to Jones, who was picking himself up off the floor as well, he asked the one question that he desperately needed answered.

"Where's Neal?"

Jones sat up and zoned in on the monitors, looking frantically for any sign of their CI. "I don't see him," he said anxiously, as he checked each monitor without success. Without a second of hesitation, Peter shot out of the van door and headed in the direction that Neal had gone. He was almost to the place where Victor had shown himself when he noticed a dark shape on the ground about ten yards ahead. Picking up his pace, he rushed over to the shape, only to find that it was the discarded forged painting that Neal was supposed to deliver to Dmitri. Frantically looking all around him, he realized that there was absolutely no sign of his partner anywhere. It was like he had disappeared into thin air.

* * *

Neal was still being unceremoniously pulled along by Victor, trying desperately to keep his balance as they went along. The trapdoor had led them into an underground tunnel and they were hurrying quickly through the dark space. The walls of the tunnel were close together and the ceiling was only an inch or two above his head. Combining that with the almost complete absence of light and the rank smell made Neal's anxiety level shoot up to a critical level.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked, his voice echoing off the walls of the small space.

"Shut up!" Victor demanded.

Neal tried to pull away again and was surprised when Victor came to a stop. Seconds later, he felt the hard cold steel of a gun jabbing into his ribs.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll stop trying to get away. I can assure you that if I have to, I _will _shoot you. And I won't miss."

Neal didn't say a word, choosing instead to stay silent. He knew that he really wasn't in a place where he could escape and that his best option was to wait until they were out of the dark tunnel, so he resigned himself to being patient. When Victor realized that his prisoner was going to actually comply with his request, they started walking again. Neal had no idea how Victor was navigating through the tunnel without running into walls, but he was grateful that the man was doing it.

After walking for what seemed like at least ten minutes, Neal finally noticed a light at the end of the tunnel. He also heard a few voices, barely more than a whisper that echoed through the halls. He had no idea where they were, but he hoped that the sound of voices meant that they were where they were supposed to be.

When Victor finally stopped again, he shoved Neal forward, causing the man to crack his head on a part of the tunnel ceiling that was hanging low. For a few seconds, Neal's vision went dark, and his head spun viciously in circles. He felt a sudden wave of nausea overtake him, but he was able to control it simply by breathing in a few lungful's of air.

Victor, who seemed to realize that Neal needed a few seconds to get back to normal, waited impatiently. Half a minute later, he led Neal over to another trap door in the ceiling. After rapping his knuckles on the metal door a few times, he stood back and waited for someone to open it up. Once the door was opened completely, Neal saw a hand reaching down for him. Having no other choice, Neal allowed himself to be pulled up out of the tunnel. At the last minute, he kicked off one of his shoes, hoping to leave it behind for Peter to find. Once he was out of the tunnel, Neal searched the small room in front of him, barely able to make out anything while his eyes tried to adjust to the darkness. Once they finally adjusted, he looked around to see who was there. Standing in the darkest corner of the room, with a look on his face that made Neal shudder in dread, stood his step-father.

"Well, Neal, it looks like you've managed to spectacularly screw everything up once again. What are we going to do about that?!"

* * *

From what they could tell from the different camera angles, Neal had obviously disappeared in their one operational blind spot. Peter, Jones, and Diana rushed to that spot while the rest of the crew rushed to see what had caused the explosion.

Arriving at the alcove, they could immediately see the slightly opened trap door that had so effectively blended into the stone work earlier. Lifting the door, Peter peered down into the darkness.

"Jones, we need some light. What do we have available?"

"We have night vision goggles in the van, Peter. And some smaller flashlight, I think."

"Grab both," Peter instructed hurriedly. "And let's find Neal."

Several long minutes later, they were climbing down into the dark, wet tunnel, their night vision goggles effectively leading the way. Peter had to tell himself to slow down despite his urgent desire to rush down the path. He knew that they needed to go slow in order to not draw attention to themselves and so as not to miss any clue that might tell them where Neal had gone.

It was a painstakingly long process, but eventually they made it to the end of the tunnel. Once they saw a light coming from the end, they exchanged their night vision goggles for the flashlights that Jones had found. They hadn't found a single sign of anyone having passed through the tunnel before them and Peter felt a sudden rush of fear and anxiety shoot through him.

"Damn it!" he growled. "Where did he go?"

Jones and Diana didn't have an answer for them, so they continued to look around the tunnel, looking for anything that might tell them where their friend had gone.

"Boss!" Diana suddenly said. "Look at this!"

Peter hurried over to where she was standing, aiming his flashlight to where she was looking. "Is that blood?" he asked.

"It is," she answered. "And it's fairly fresh. Someone definitely came through here recently."

As the panic increased inside of him, he couldn't help his mind from going in several different directions. Before he could get too upset, Jones's voiced echoed in the chamber.

"Peter! Over here!"

Now, Peter ran to the other side of the tunnel to find Jones holding a shoe. "This is his, isn't it?" the man asked.

"Yeah, it's Neal's." Looking around, it didn't take too long for him to find the trap door in the ceiling of the tunnel. "Up there," he said as he pointed his flashlight up to the door. "That's where he went."

* * *

Neal found himself in a car with Dmitri and Victor again, concern filling every inch of his body. The last time he had been this situation, he had ended up in the hospital, fighting for his life. He had no reason to believe that this time couldn't end up the same way.

He could tell that Dmitri was angry. In fact, he might even have been angrier than Neal had ever seen him, and that was saying a lot. Neal's mind was frantically working to find a way to get himself out of the current situation. He wasn't having much luck, though.

Fortunately, Dmitri was riding quietly in the front seat, allowing Neal time to assess the situation. He had already searched for his phone, but realized that he must have dropped it in the chaos of the bomb blast. Suddenly, he realized that he still had his watch on. Moving as little as he could, he reached over and turned the transmitter back on, mentally kicking himself for not remembering it earlier. He felt relief wash over him at the idea of being connected once again with his partner.

After several seconds, he decided to address Dmitri so that Peter would know who he was with. He would have to be careful to not say anything that would clue Peter in to what he had been planning. He just wanted to make sure that the team knew that he was with his step-father.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked suddenly, his words crashing into the silence of the car.

"You don't need to know where we're going, boy," Dmitri growled.

"Okay, then what do you want from me?" Neal asked.

Dmitri suddenly turned to glare at Neal, who sank back further in his seat. He wished that the man didn't still have the ability to incite fear in him, but he did.

"What do you think I want from you, Neal?" Dmitri asked. "It's your fault that I'm still out a large amount of money. You messed everything up and I'm going to make sure you pay for your mistakes."

Neal didn't like the sound of that and didn't for one minute think that Dmitri was kidding. He could tell that the man was furious and he couldn't help the cold sweat that suddenly broke out all over his body. As he felt the car start to slow down, he knew that he was in for a world of hurt.

* * *

Once they had the trap door open, Jones climbed through and then turned and helped Diana and Peter through it as well. Just as the door closed behind them, Peter suddenly straightened up and motioned for his agents to be quiet. Relief shot through him at the sound of Neal's voice coming through his earpiece. That relief was immediately followed by a feeling of dread, once he heard the sound of Dmitri's voice, too. Anger coursed through him when he heard the anger in Dmitri's voice. It coursed even harder and faster when he heard the man call Neal "boy," knowing how much Neal hated to be called that. Peter's hatred for Dmitri suddenly increased tenfold and he vowed to himself that he would find a way to make sure that the man never hurt Neal again. Peter had to protect _his _boy.

* * *

Author's note: I can't apologize enough for the long delay in updating. This chapter was really hard for me to write, mostly because I don't do well with writing action. I really can't wait to get back to writing the angst that I love so much. That being said, get ready for some serious whump, some over-protective Peter, and a lot of angst and bromance.

Thanks for reading. I can't wait to hear what you all think of these recent events. And let me know if anything doesn't make sense. Take care.


	35. Lost Under The Surface

What He Does Best

Chapter 35

* * *

Author's warning: There's a fair bit of whumpage ahead, just so you know. Consider yourself warned…..

* * *

Neal had no idea how much time had passed when they finally arrived at their destination. His head was throbbing and he was pretty sure that he had blacked out a few times during the trip, but it was obvious that the other occupants of the car weren't in the least bit worried. In fact, he was convinced that Victor had increased the jerkiness of his driving just to inflict as much pain on him as he could.

When the car came to an abrupt and jarring stop, Neal suddenly found himself being pulled unceremoniously out of the car. He cried out in pain when his head banged against the door jamb of the car, but whoever was pulling him out didn't stop.

As a wave of dizziness washed over him, he stumbled alongside one of Dmitri's men. Several times his legs gave out, but someone was always there to jerk him back up. When they finally made it inside the building and when he was finally thrown into the corner of a dark room, Neal let out a sigh of relief. He wasn't sure if he would have made it much further without throwing up whatever was in his stomach.

Curled up in the corner, he was hoping to be left blissfully alone, but Dmitri had other ideas. Turning to Victor, he instructed the man to set up a perimeter guard outside. Once Victor was gone, he turned to another one of his men.

"Strip him!" he commanded in a fierce voice. "And get rid of his clothing."

Neal didn't even try to fight off the man that stepped forward. Instead, he sat as still as he could while the man took off his clothes and watch. Fortunately, he allowed Neal to keep his underwear. Once the man was gone, Dmitri turned back to Neal.

"Now that your mother is gone, I don't have to play nice anymore," he growled.

"You were playing nice before?" Neal asked incredulously.

"You have no idea of what I'm capable of, boy," Dmitri answered. "But, you're about to find out. I've had enough of your maddening ways. I'm sick of watching you act like you're so much smarter than everyone around you. From the first day I met you, I've wanted to beat that arrogant smirk off of your face. You think you're better than me? Is that it?"

Neal knew he should just keep his mouth shut, but he found it so hard to listen to Dmitri's vitriolic speech. "If I remember right, you've already tried to beat the smirk off of me numerous times. How did that work out for you?"

Without a word, Dmitri stepped forward and backhanded Neal across his right cheek. He immediately felt his cheek split open followed by the sensation of his own blood starting to trickle down his cheek. Dmitri took a step back from him and examined his hand.

"Damn it, boy! Now I have blood stuck in the crevice of my ring!"

Neal wanted to reply to that, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Now, his cheek was throbbing in synch with his head and he really didn't want to add any more to it. Instead, he wiped the blood off of his face with his hand and waited to see what Dmitri would do next.

Surprisingly, the man turned and headed to the door. Just before he walked out, he looked back at Neal. "Don't think that me leaving is a sign of mercy, boy. I'm just too tired to deal with you tonight. But, mark my word, Neal… tomorrow will be the longest, most agonizing day of your entire, pathetic life.

Neal really didn't like the sound of that.

* * *

Once Peter realized that Dmitri was the one who had taken Neal, he put in an immediate order to check the GPS on his partner's watch. Despite the fact that he was the ASAC, his request took time to fulfill. Peter understood that the explosion took first priority, but he couldn't help but feel that the fact that Neal was only a CI had something to do with the fact that his request had been pushed aside temporarily. He knew that if it had been an actual FBI agent that had been kidnapped, things would have happened a lot faster.

Eventually, his request went through, but shortly thereafter a bomb threat was called in to the FBI, leading the higher-ups in DC to order his team to assist with that situation instead. Peter knew that he couldn't refuse to obey such a direct order, but he knew that he had to figure a way around it. It wasn't fair to Neal that his life wasn't important enough to the FBI to save at all costs. Fortunately, it was important enough to Peter, though.

After filling Jones and Diana in on his plans, he quickly turned and ran to his car. He knew that his presence would be missed on-site eventually, but he really didn't care. At the moment all he cared about was finding his partner.

Once he was in his car, he patched himself through to the tech guys and told them what he needed. Minutes later, they sent through the GPS information from Neal's watch. Peter didn't recognize the location, but he wasted no time in heading in that direction. He knew that without backup, he was putting both himself and Neal in a very dangerous situation, but he felt that he had no choice. Neal deserved more than being tossed aside until it was convenient for the FBI to look for him. He deserved the same treatment as any other agent in the Bureau.

As he made his way to Neal's last known location, he called Diana and filled her in on his location. She promised him that she and Jones would be on their way as soon as they could be. She also told him several times that he needed to be careful.

With one more phone call, he let Elizabeth know that he was going to be a little late. He didn't go into details about what had happened and he tried his best to not sound concerned. He hated not telling her the truth, but he really didn't see the point in causing her to worry.

After hanging up his phone, he checked the GPS signal again and groaned at the fact that he was still almost ten miles away from it. Picking up his speed, he said a quick prayer that he would get to Neal in time.

* * *

Neal woke up sometime during the night with the sudden urge to throw up. The small amount of light that was coming from underneath the only door in the room allowed enough light for him to see that there was a toilet and a sink in the corner of the room. Making his way over to the toilet as fast as he could, he viciously emptied the contents of his stomach, and by the time he was done, his head was throbbing more fiercely than it ever had. The pain alone caused the nausea to rise up in him again and he suddenly found himself dry-heaving over the toilet. If he wasn't so sick, he might have laughed at the vicious cycle he seemed to be stuck in. _Throbbing head…..nausea….vomiting…throbbing head…..nausea…..dry-heaving….throbbing head….nausea, etc…_

Once he felt like he could stand, he wearily lifted himself off the ground and made his way over to the sink. After rinsing his mouth out a few times and splashing cold water on his face, he crawled back into the corner and tried to fall back to sleep. He had just managed to doze off when he was suddenly awakened by the pail of ice cold water that was thrown on him. With a gasp of breath, he pulled himself up off the floor, only to be doused with another bucket of water.

The water was so cold that it took his breath away and he found himself gasping and sputtering, anxious to fill his lungs up with air. Just as he seemed to finally catch his breath, a third bucket was thrown on him. The combination of the coldness of the water and the lack of air caused a wave of dizziness to shoot through him and he suddenly found himself back down on the floor.

"Get up!" Victor shouted at him.

When Neal didn't make a move, the man stomped over to the corner and kicked him cruelly in the side. Neal just barely kept himself from crying out in pain. Using every ounce of his remaining strength, he pulled himself up, finding it rather hard to support himself on his shaking legs.

Without a word, Victor pulled Neal's arms together in front of him and began to tie them up with a piece of rope. Neal flexed his arm muscles as much as he could, hoping to create a little give in the rope once he relaxed them. Before he could test it out, though, Victor and another man lifted him up and looped the rope around an exposed beam several times. Once they let go, Neal screamed in agony as his shoulders suddenly bore the full weight of his full body. He could just barely reach the floor with the very tips of his toes, so he couldn't really take much weight off of his shoulders.

Not knowing what else to expect, Neal watched Victor and the younger man closely. He thought that he could detect a small amount of hesitation in the younger man's actions, and he filed that away into a small part of his brain. _Maybe, just maybe, the young man could be convinced to help him_.

To Neal's relief, Victor and the other man turned around and left the room, leaving Neal to wonder when they would be back and what they would do to him when they returned. With his head throbbing relentlessly and his body shivering violently, Neal tried to take his mind to a happier place. It was no surprise at all to him that his happy place ended up being at Peter and Elizabeth's house.

* * *

Peter Burke had never felt so frustrated in his life. That was saying a lot, since he spent most of days with Neal Caffrey, the King of Frustration. The situation he was currently in, however, trumped everything else. He had successfully followed the GPS on Neal's watch as far as it would take him, but he now found himself at a dead-end. Stopping his car, he stepped out and looked around him. He knew that he was in the industrial district, but the sheer multitude of warehouses surprised him. _How was he supposed to find his partner in the middle of all of this?! _

Not for the first time, he thought about how nice it would be if Neal had an _implanted_ tracking device. Not that the young man would ever go for something like that, but it would definitely give everyone else some peace of mind. He couldn't help but imagine how much easier his life would be if he knew definitively where Neal Caffrey was at any given moment.

As he looked around again, he realized that the only thing he could do at the moment was start searching building by building. Checking his watch, he saw that it was almost three o'clock in the morning, causing him to yawn widely. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go home, take a hot shower, and climb into bed next to his beautiful wife. Instead, he turned around and headed for the nearest warehouse building, determined to go through each one methodically, until he found his partner.

* * *

The next time Neal woke up, he knew that he hadn't been asleep for very long. His hands and fingers were beginning to go numb, but he still had a little bit of feeling in them, making him think that not a lot of time had passed since he had been strung up. His shoulders were burning fiercely from having to bear the full weight of his body. And his head was still pounding.

As he hung limply from the beam, he wondered how close Peter was to finding him. He had no doubt that the man was hot on his trail, knowing that if any man could find him, it would be Peter Burke. He only hoped that the man was being cautious.

Neal tried to stop himself from thinking of all the ways that Peter could get hurt in their current situation, knowing that he couldn't live with himself if something happened to his friend. Suddenly realizing that he needed to figure out a way to escape, before anyone had a chance to hurt Peter, Neal started flexing and releasing his arm muscles, hoping to create some give in the rope. Unfortunately, the rope was tied extremely tight and no amount of movement was going to work.

Relaxing his arms, he allowed his shoulders to adjust to holding up his full weight again. The burning pain brought tears to his eyes and he had to pause long enough to take in several deep breaths. Once he felt a little bit of the pain diminish, he slowly looked around him, hoping to find something that might help him escape. Of course, the room had been readied to house a prisoner, so there was very little to work with.

The only door in the room was locked from the outside and had no visible hinges or even an internal doorknob. There weren't any windows in the room, either, and as far as he could tell, no access in the floor or ceiling. He was well and truly trapped.

Other than the sink and toilet in the corner of the room, there wasn't any other furniture. All in all, Neal was trapped inside a very secure box, which only meant that he would need to be more creative in his escape attempt.

Before he could think about anything else, the door to the room opened up, revealing both Victor and Dmitri. Neal quickly looked past them, trying to see whatever he could while the door was opened. In the short glimpse they afforded him, he noticed a large room with what looked like a desk, a chair, and a lamp. The young man that had come in with Victor earlier was sitting at the desk, looking decidedly uncomfortable. Again, Neal had the thought that the kid might be of help in some way.

Once they stepped completely through the door, Victor slammed it shut, causing Neal to jump slightly. He hated showing any kind of weakness to the two men before him, but he couldn't stop himself. His nerves were shot and his body seemed to have a mind of its own.

"How did you sleep, boy?" Dmitri asked as he stepped in front of Neal.

"Not too well," Neal replied with a cocky grin. "The accommodations here are a little lacking, if you ask me."

"Not quite up to your standards, huh?" Dmitri asked. "Why doesn't that surprise me?! You always were a little high maintenance."

Neal couldn't help but laugh at that. "I don't think it's necessarily high maintenance to expect a bed and some warm clothing, do you? What happened to all of that good old southern hospitality my mother always insisted on? Oh wait, neither one of you were ever very hospitable, were you?"

"Don't talk about your mother that way," Dmitri demanded. "God rest her soul, she was a good woman."

Neal scoffed at those words, but wisely kept his mouth shut. He knew better than to go down that path with his step-father. Not saying a word, he watched as Dmitri started pacing in front of him.

"Let's play a game, Danny-boy," Dmitri finally said. "I'll ask you a question and you'll answer it. If I don't like your answer, Victor here will show you my displeasure."

"I don't really like playing games," Neal answered snidely. "Especially games where you obviously have the upper hand. Besides, what do I get if you _do_ like my answer? There has to be some incentive for me, right?"

Dmitri actually laughed at that. "You have a lot of nerve, boy. I'll give you that….."

Neal wisely kept his mouth shut again.

"Okay, well, how about this? For every answer that I _do_ like, I'll give you back one article of clothing. How does that sound?"

"That sounds fair enough, I guess," Neal answered.

"Okay, then…. Let's get started….." Dmitri looked as if he was trying to come up with a good question. Eventually, he looked back at Neal with an evil smirk on his face. "Question number one… What the hell was that explosion all about?"

Neal's stomach sank at his words, knowing that he couldn't give the man any decent answer to that particular question. He had no idea of what actually happened. Taking a few deep breaths and preparing himself mentally for the pain that was to come, he finally answered.

"I have no idea what that was, Dmitri. I needed…."

As he was trying to explain, he saw Dmitri give a small nod to Victor. Before he could finish explaining that Mozzie was supposed to have created a distraction for the FBI, Victor stepped forward with a Taser. Neal arched his body away from the man, but there was no way to escape it. Seconds later, he felt a powerful shock course through his body, causing his muscles to painfully contract. Of course, he had been tazed before, but the intensity of it always surprised him.

"That's not the answer I was looking for, Danny," Dmitri said. "I want to know what caused the explosion, and if you _were_ responsible for it, why? What was your plan?"

"I wasn't responsible for it," Neal answered weakly. "I don't know what caused it, but….."

Dmitri shook his head unhappily, before giving Victor another nod. Neal tried again to avoid it, but Victor once again delivered a shock. Neal cried out in pain, before sagging limply, his feet barely touching the ground.

"Okay, let's try a different question, Danny. What was your plan to get away from the Feds?"

Neal gasped for breath, taking several minutes to regain control of himself. Once he felt like he could effectively get a few words out, he weakly lifted his head to look at Dmitri.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you," he said breathlessly. "I needed a distraction. Something to distract the Feds. I didn't have time to work up a good plan, so I asked someone to help me. I'm guessing that's where the explosion came from."

Neal could tell that Dmitri was about to give Victor another nod of his head. "Hey, it worked, didn't it?" he frantically said. "The FBI were definitely distracted by the explosion."

"Indeed, they were," Dmitri admitted. "Victor, I think Danny-boy has earned himself an article of clothing. What do we have for him?"

Victor, who looked unhappy at not being able to inflict more pain, opened the door and stepped outside. Seconds later, he came back in holding a pair of socks. Without a word, he stepped forward and pulled a sock onto Neal's right foot.

"Okay, next question…. What happened to the painting?" Dmitri immediately asked, obviously eager to continue the game.

Neal didn't want to answer, knowing that whatever he said wouldn't be a good answer. Of course, Dmitri wasn't in the habit of waiting patiently, as evidenced by the way he was pacing even more angrily in front of him.

"I dropped it," Neal finally admitted. "When Victor was pulling me toward the trap door, it slipped out of my hand."

"Danny, Danny, Danny…." Dmitri said as he shook his head. "You dropped a painting that was potentially worth millions of dollars?"

Neal didn't answer, knowing that it wasn't necessary. There was no excuse for dropping the painting. It was a very amateurish thing to do and he knew it. He only wished that it hadn't happened.

Expecting the Taser again, Neal was surprised when Victor stepped forward and punched him savagely in the stomach. The impact caused him to swing violently in the air, causing more strain on his already overly-strained shoulders. Neal couldn't help the tears that welled up in his eyes. He also couldn't help the anguished cry that escaped him when Victor punched him again, this time landing a blow to his left kidney. The pain was so intense that Neal felt himself black-out for a few seconds. When he was able to open his eyes again, he looked coldly at both Victor and Dmitri, and before anything else could be said or done, he emptied his stomach violently on the floor in front of them.

To his relief, both Dmitri and Victor looked disgusted by the contents of his stomach that were rapidly seeping into the floorboards. Dmitri ordered Victor to cut Neal down and to have someone clean up the mess he had made before turning back to Neal.

"Don't get too comfortable, Danny-boy. We're just getting started." With that, he turned and walked out the door, leaving Victor to release Neal from the rafters.

Once he was untied, Neal flopped bonelessly to the floor. Somehow, he found the strength to crawl back into his corner of the room, warily keeping his eyes on his tormentor. He let out a sigh of relief when Victor opened the door and followed Dmitri, ordering the young man at the desk to clean up Neal's mess. Neal had hoped to talk to the young man, to perhaps talk him into doing the right thing and helping him, but instead he closed his eyes and allowed the blissful darkness to take over.

* * *

Peter had already gone through three warehouses, clearing them as diligently as he could, when it happened. He had just entered the fourth warehouse, quickly discerning by the layers of undisturbed dust that it was more than likely empty as well, when he heard a noise. Turning around quickly, he saw a shadow scurrying out of sight off to his right. Warily looking around him, he didn't see anything else and was getting ready to just chalk everything up to raw nerves, when another shadow suddenly appeared right in front of him.

"Special Agent Peter Burke, thanks for joining us," a voice said right before he felt a sharp pain in his head, followed by complete oblivion.

* * *

Author's note: Uh-oh…..it looks like both of our boys are in some serious trouble. For those of you who love the angst and whump, it's baaack! I'm sure there is going to be more to come, too.

I told you I'm much better at writing these type of scenes, remember? This chapter just seemed to fly out of me, thank goodness. I really didn't want to leave you all hanging for a long time again. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I hope it wasn't too much whump for you all.

Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. You guys rock!


	36. Weep Not For Roads Untravelled

What He Does Best

Chapter 36

* * *

Peter woke up with a pounding headache. His first thought was that he really didn't deserve to be a federal agent since he kept allowing himself to be taken again and again. Of course, they wouldn't have been able to get the jump on him if he hadn't been stupid enough to go looking for Neal without proper backup. With that being said, though, he knew that he would have made the same choice if he had it all to do over again. Neal deserved to have someone looking for him immediately, not when it was convenient for the men who didn't really care about him.

Looking around the small room he was in, he wasn't surprised to see a man he recognized. He already knew that Dmitri was responsible for both him and Neal being taken. He couldn't help but wonder, though, why the man had chosen to take him. _What could he possibly have to offer Dmitri_?

"Get up!" the young man in front of him growled.

Peter slowly stood up, hoping that the pounding in his head wouldn't cause him to pass out again. Once he was on his feet, the young man stepped over to him and none too gently pulled both of his arms behind his back. Seconds later, he felt his hands being tied together with a thick rope. Remembering Neal's trick, he quickly flexed his forearm, hoping to create some slack in the rope.

The man tugged on the rope a few times, seemingly happy with the snugness of the rope. Without a word, he pushed Peter toward the door, causing him to stumble weakly. Peter thought that he was surely going to fall on his face, but he was able to recover his step somehow. Allowing himself to be pushed out the door, he stumbled along a dark hallway.

After passing a few doors, the young man pulled on the ropes, causing Peter to come to a stop. He waited as the young man rapped his knuckles on the door, obviously expecting someone to answer the door. Seconds later, the door opened and Peter found himself face to face with Silas Dmitri.

"Well, if it isn't Special Agent Peter Burke," Dmitri snarled. "I'd say it's nice to see you again, but somehow I don't think the feeling is mutual, is it?"

"Definitely not," Peter answered.

Dmitri turned to the young man and motioned him to shut the door. "Have a seat, Agent Burke," he said once the door was closed.

Peter walked over to a chair sitting in front of a large desk and awkwardly lowered himself into it. Without wasting any time, he confronted Dmitri. "Where's Neal?"

"Right down to business. I like that in a partner," Dmitri laughed.

"I'm not your partner, Dmitri," Peter growled. "Where is he?"

"Calm down, Agent Burke. We'll get to that in a minute. First, I have a proposition for you."

Peter couldn't help but be curious as to what kind of proposition the man had in mind.

"Agent Burke, I have something you desperately want, although why you want him is far beyond my comprehension. And _you_ have a certain skill that I need in order to get what I want. Therefore, I propose that we partner together to come to a mutually appreciated end. You get what you want and I get what I want. Sound fair?"

"I don't partner with criminals, Dmitri," Peter snarled.

"Oh? And all this time I thought that you saw Neal as your partner. Pardon my misinterpretation of your relationship."

"Neal _is_ my partner," Peter explained. "And he _was_ a criminal. But, he's paid his dues to society. He's more than paid them, actually."

"Hmmmm…. I wonder if you'll feel that way when you find out what he's done."

Peter's heart skipped a beat at those words.

"Would it surprise you to know that Neal was working for me, Agent Burke? That the whole time you were setting up a sting to catch me, he was going behind your back to help me?"

"I don't believe that," Peter replied. "Neal hates you, Dmitri. He would never help you in any way."

"Ah, but that's not entirely true, Agent Burke. Of course, Neal _does_ hate me, but he fears me even more. And fear can be a powerful motivator, don't you think?"

Peter felt like his stomach was flipping madly and he could feel his head pound with every erratic, frantic heartbeat.

"Listen, Agent Burke….I know that you think of Neal as some sort of "golden child" or something like that, but how well do you really know him? Do you really know what he's capable of when he's desperate? Do you know the things he's done in the past to get ahead?"

"Trust me, Dmitri, I don't think of Neal as a golden child. I know he's made bad choices in his life and believe me, it's a daily battle to make sure he doesn't go down that slippery slope again. But, he's a good kid….. A good man."

"But, can you ever really trust him, Agent Burke? How do you know that he's not going to "go down that slippery slope" again? How do you know that he's not going to get tired of being on your leash and decide to take matters into his own hands?"

"I don't know that he won't decide to do that, Dmitri. But, I do trust him enough to stand by his side. He's not perfect, that's for sure, but he's a good man."

"Well, your _good man_ just pulled a fast one over on you, Burke. I know you think he was working to help you get to me, but he was actually doing the opposite. He caused that explosion. He was the reason that your sting went up in smoke."

Peter didn't have an answer for that. It wasn't that he didn't think Dmitri was telling the truth. In fact, it all made sense. But, what he did know was that even if that was true, he knew that Neal had a plan. Of course, he was madder than hell that the man didn't clue him in on his plan. _When would the kid learn that he didn't have to handle everything on his own?!_

"What do you want from me, Dmitri?"

Dmitri stood up and walked around the desk. Stopping just in front of Peter, he leaned against the desk, crossing both of his arms off of his chest. "I need you to convince Neal to tell me something, Agent Burke. He has something of mine, and I want it back. Do you think you can convince him to tell me where it is?"

"Where _what_ is?" Peter growled.

"Don't worry about that right now, Agent Burke. I know that he respects you enough that your words can be very convincing. You'll have your work cut out for you, but I'm sure you can do it. When the time is right, I'll tell you what I need and you can do your best to convince him to help me. For now, I want you to get some rest."

Dmitri walked over to the door and rapped on it two times. Immediately, the door opened and the young man from before stepped into the room.

"Take him back to his room and make sure he's comfortable. Make sure he has water, food, and a blanket."

The young man grabbed Peter by the arm and pulled him to his feet. Peter allowed himself to be pulled to the door, but then turned back to Dmitri. "I want to see Neal," he said quickly. "I need to know if he's okay."

Dmitri laughed. "He's a little indisposed at the moment, Agent Burke. But, don't worry….. You'll see him in the morning, first thing."

Peter started to argue with the man, but he found himself being forcefully pulled out of the room. Knowing that there wasn't much he could do, he stopped fighting and walked as steadily as he could down the hallway.

* * *

When Neal woke up again, he did a quick inventory of his injuries. He ached all over, of course, and his head was still pounding fiercely. He also could tell that his right cheek was swollen, almost to the point of causing his right eye to close. The small of his back was burning in agony and he knew that was due to the punches Victor had directed straight at his kidneys. He also could feel a burning in his chest and the sudden desire to cough. When he did finally cough, his ribs and head throbbed miserably, causing him to feel like he was going to lose whatever was left in his stomach.

After taking several deep breaths, which caused his chest and ribs to ache even more, he rolled over onto his side and pulled himself into a sitting position. His head was swimming dizzily and for a second, he felt like he was going to pass out. Luckily, the feeling passed after several long seconds. After waiting a few more minutes, he finally stood up and made his way over to the sink. After splashing cold water on his face for several minutes, he filled up the small glass sitting on the sink, and took several small sips. His stomach rebelled the instant he swallowed the cold water, and before he was ready, he was bent over the toilet, emptying his stomach.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it seemed like hours before he was able to pull himself back up and make his way back over to the bed in the corner. Just as he settled himself down on the bed, the door opened, sending a blinding light straight into his eyes.

"Get up," Victor demanded.

"I'd rather not," Neal answered weakly.

"I said get up, boy," Victor demanded even louder.

Neal struggled to pull himself back up off the bed. Eventually, he was sitting up again, staring angrily at the man he had grown to hate almost as much as Dmitri.

Victor marched forward and grabbed Neal by the head, forcefully pulling him up by his hair.

"Let's go," he said as he continued to pull Neal by the hair.

Neal, of course, had no choice but to move along with Victor. Unsurprisingly, the man didn't care that he was trying desperately not to fall with each step they took. Eventually, they came to a large room at the end of the hallway. Once they crossed the threshold, Victor shoved Neal into the room. Neal tried to keep his balance, but he abruptly found his knees, followed quickly by the rest of his body, slamming into the concrete floor. He couldn't stop the cry that escaped his lips and he suddenly hated himself for being so weak.

Before he could find the strength to try to sit up, the door opened and closed again, admitting Dmitri into the room.

"Good morning, Danny-boy. How did you sleep last night?"

"Best sleep I've had in a long time," Neal mumbled. "Really, Dmitri…..your hospitality is amazing."

"Always a jokester, Danny. I never liked that about you, you know?"

"That's okay, Dmitri. There's a lot about you that I never liked, too."

Dmitri laughed. "I have to admit, Danny, that I wish that some of my men had half the guts you have. You may be an arrogant, annoying trouble-maker, but you're definitely bold and daring. No one can ever say that you're a coward, that's for sure."

When Neal didn't answer, Dmitri continued. "I thought I should clue you in on the recent change of events. We've had a visitor to our little compound. Someone that I think will be able to help both of us."

Neal looked up at Dmitri, curiosity covering his face. "Who?" he asked, even though he was dreading the answer.

"You'll find out soon," Dmitri replied with a smirk. "Right now, you and Victor have some business to attend to."

With that, Dmitri turned and walked back out the door, leaving Neal to face whatever Victor had in store for him. Before he could say or do anything, Victor reached into his pocket and pulled something out. Before Neal's eyes could focus on the object in the man's hand, Victor had stepped forward and prodded him in the side with a taser.

* * *

By the time Victor was done with Neal, he had been kicked, punched, shoved, and tased several different times. His hair was plastered to his forehead as sweat dripped into his eyes and down his face. His hands were trembling and his legs were shaking enough to where he couldn't support his own weight. Despite the fact that every aspect of his body was on fire, he did everything he could to not give Victor the satisfaction of knowing how much pain he was in.

Instead, he kept his mouth shut, hoping that the man was done with him for a while. Keeping his eye on Victor, Neal watched every move the man made as he paced in the small room. He couldn't control the small gasps of pain that happened with every breath he took and he couldn't stop it when his stomach decided to empty itself again. All in all, he was more miserable than he could ever remember being.

Just when it looked like Victor was gearing up for another round, the door opened again. Neal couldn't find the strength to even raise his head until he heard the familiar voice of his partner.

"Neal!" Peter yelled as he was pushed through the door. "Damn it, Dmitri! What did you do to him?"

Dmitri followed Peter through the door. "Nothing that he didn't deserve, Agent Burke," he laughed. "Things would go a lot easier on him, if he would just learn to cooperate."

Neal's heart was hammering in his throat at the sight of Peter standing before him. "Peter," he called out weakly. "Peter, what are you doing here?"

"I came for you, Neal," Peter said softly as he knelt down in front of the battered young man.

"You shouldn't have," Neal whispered. "Peter, you shouldn't have. I can take care of myself."

Dmitri laughed again. "It doesn't look like you're doing too good of a job, Danny."

Neal glared at his step-father. "You must be particularly stupid, Dmitri, since you can't seem to remember my name. It's Neal!"

"Neal!" Peter growled. "Don't."

But it was too late. Dmitri's face was burning red and he turned to Victor. "I don't think you've succeeded in teaching him to be respectful, Victor. He obviously needs another lesson."

Victor stepped towards Neal, but Peter jumped up to stand in front of him. "Leave him alone!" he demanded as he tried to protect his partner. Unfortunately, with his hands tied behind his back, it was easy enough for Victor to outmaneuver him. Finding himself suddenly on the floor, he could only watch in horror as Victor towered over Neal, driving his boot into the man's body repeatedly.

"Stop!" he yelled. "Dmitri, that's enough! Leave him alone!"

Dmitri cleared his throat and motioned for Victor to step away from Neal. "If you would just learn to keep your mouth shut, things would go a lot easier on you, boy."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," Neal groaned.

Dmitri turned to Peter. "I don't know how you put up with him day in and day out, Agent Burke. His insolence is enough to try the patience of a saint."

"What do you want, Dmitri? Let's get this over with, whatever it is."

"You're right, Agent Burke. We should get on with it, right?" Turning back to Neal, who was still struggling to catch his breath, he knelt down in front of him. "Hey, Danny-boy….. Do you remember what happened the week that you ran away? Do you remember walking in on your mother and me talking in the kitchen? I was telling her about something important when you walked in. Remember?"

Neal had no idea what the man was talking about. It seemed like any time he had walked into his house, his mother and step-father were whispering to each other about something.

"Come on, boy. Surely you remember the whipping I gave you when I found you eavesdropping the very next day! I know you heard me telling your mother about the diamonds we lifted at the jewelry store that summer. And I know that you took them!"

"I didn't take any diamonds, Dmitri," Neal croaked. "I had no idea what you were talking about that night. All I wanted was to get something to eat and to go to bed."

"You're lying," Dmitri growled. "I'm not stupid, Danny. I knew that it wasn't a coincidence that you overheard me telling your mother about it and then they were gone the very next day. I knew that you had taken them. And then you disappeared, too."

"It wasn't me, Dmitri. I had nothing to do with those diamonds disappearing."

"Of course you did," Dmitri answered. "I was willing to overlook the fact that you took them, Danny, when you were willing to help me out with the paintings. But, that didn't work out too well, did it? So, now I need those diamonds."

"Why?" Neal asked. "Why now, after all these years?"

"I have a debt to pay, boy. Your paintings were going to help me pay off that debt, but that can't happen now. Now, I only have one other option. Where are the diamonds, Danny?"

Neal looked belligerently up at his step-father. "I told you! I don't have them and I never did. You're out of luck, Dmitri. I can't help you anymore than you can help yourself."

"We'll see about that," Dmitri said before turning away from Neal. "Victor, I'd like to show Danny how displeased I am with his choice to be uncooperative. Take Agent Burke into the other room. And be sure to leave the door open. I don't want Danny to miss out on what you're doing."

Neal watched in horror as Victor grabbed Peter by the arm and dragged him out of the room. "Peter," he yelled frantically. "Dmitri! Leave him alone!"

Dmitri leaned against the wall, looking as if he didn't have a care in the world. Neal pulled himself up to his knees, despite the agonizing pain shooting through him with each movement. Before he could do anything else, he heard the awful sound of punches being thrown into a soft body. Punch after punch could be heard until he finally heard the worst sound imaginable.

Neal couldn't do anything but bear witness to the sound of the terrible beating going on in the next room. His heart broke a little each time Peter cried out in pain. The guilt he was feeling in knowing that he was the cause of Peter's pain was nearly enough to completely break him, but there was no way he would ever give Dmitri that satisfaction. Instead, he listened to each thrown punch, each gasp of air from his partner, each cry of pain. He listened as the punches turned to kicks and then eventually to the sound of his best friend being tased. As he listened, he vowed once and for all that Dmitri would pay for what he was doing. For what he had done. He vowed that he would make sure that the man never had the chance to hurt someone he cared about again. He vowed that once he was done with him, Silas Dmitri would exist no longer.

* * *

Author's note: Well, I thought it only fair and fitting that Peter take a little bit of the abuse from time to time. Of course, my main reason for this is to instill even more angst in Neal. I can only imagine how he would feel if he had to listen to his friend being tortured in the next room.

This chapter is a little later than I had planned, but life has been crazy lately. I keep trying to tell my kids that they need to get rich and famous so I can quit my job and write all the time, but they don't seem to take me seriously. Anyway, please know that I won't abandon this story and that I'm doing my best to get the chapters out to you. Please be patient.

Thank you all so much for sticking with the story. I know it may seem like it's dragging for some of you, so just be aware that we are in the homestretch. I'm not sure how many chapters it will be, but we're getting close to the end. I have to admit that I have mixed feelings about that, lol.


	37. How Many Times Have You Heard Me Cry Out

What He Does Best

Chapter 37

* * *

Neal had no idea how long he listened to the cries of his partner, although it seemed like an eternity. Every grunt and every moan of pain sent a sharp pain through him, making him feel like he himself was being stabbed with a knife.

He struggled to get to his feet, to go and help Peter, but between the hands that held him down and his own weakness, he couldn't do it. Cursing himself for being so weak and not knowing what else to do, he pleaded with Dmitri to stop the beating. Deep down, he knew that wasn't going to work, but his mind wouldn't focus enough to come up with a better plan.

Instead, he was forced to continue to listen to his best friend's torturous beating.

Eventually, the door to the small room opened and Neal watched in horror as a badly beaten and bloodied body was shoved through the door, landing ten feet away from him. With every ounce of strength he possessed, Neal dragged himself over to his friend. Somehow, he found a way to lift Peter's body, so it was resting uncomfortably, but firmly in his arms.

As tears filled his eyes, Neal felt a hatred surge through him so intense that it took his breath away. Tearing his eyes away from his friend's battered face, he turned his steely gaze onto the two men standing before him. Victor and Dmitri both turned away from him, opening the door to leave. Just as Dmitri was about to close the door, he leaned back into the room and smiled at Neal.

"Maybe seeing your friend in such a state will serve to remind you where you put those diamonds, Danny-boy. I'll check back with you later to see if you're ready to help."

Once the door closed behind him, Neal turned his attention back to Peter.

"Peter! Can you hear me? I'm right here, Peter. I'm here."

When Peter made no move to answer in any way, Neal gathered what little strength he had left and pulled them both over to the wall. Once he felt the wall against his back, he allowed himself to slump down in exhaustion, still clinging desperately to his partner.

* * *

When Neal woke up again, he realized that Peter was staring at him closely.

"Peter! How are you doing?" he asked, even though he knew it was a stupid question. The sight of his friend's battered face told him everything he needed to know about how Peter was doing. He was surprised, though, when Peter answered.

"About the same as you, I'm guessing," he said with a small laugh that quickly turned into a painful cough.

Neal gently tried to sit Peter up more, thinking that might help, and then feeling guilty when the man cried out in pain. Eventually, he stopped coughing and Neal helped him to settle into a more comfortable position. Once he was completely settled, he turned his own steely gaze onto Neal.

"What the hell were you thinking, Neal?" he ground out painfully.

Neal really didn't want to have that particular conversation with Peter, but he knew he wasn't going to get around it. Instead, he decided to be completely honest with the man.

"I was thinking about how much I really wanted Dmitri out of my life. And that there was no way you would have gone along with my plan. That's what I was thinking," he replied simply and honestly.

"We could have come up with a different plan, then," Peter answered.

"There wasn't time, Peter," Neal argued. "Don't you think I would have come up with a better plan if I'd had more time? I had to act fast. And I couldn't risk you benching me on this."

Peter glared silently at Neal for several minutes, making him feel like a kid waiting for the wrath of his father to fall upon him. Finally, he sighed deeply.

"So, does that genius brain of yours have any idea of how to get us out of here?"

"I haven't had much time to think about it," Neal answered. "But I'm working on it."

"Maybe you could work a little faster," Peter said. "El's going to kill me if I don't come home soon."

Neal felt a surge of guilt shoot through him. "Peter, I'm sorry," he started, but was quickly cut off.

"Stop it, Neal," Peter ordered. "This isn't the time for apologies. We need to figure out a way to get out of here first. But, trust me, kid….When we get home, you and I are going to be having a very long discussion about your penchant for running off and doing things your way."

Neal really wasn't looking forward to that discussion.

* * *

After almost an hour of trying to find a way out of their current situation, Neal and Peter finally fell asleep. They slept huddled against each other, trying to conserve a little body heat between the two of them. They both were jarred awake by the sound of the door slamming open. Within seconds, they were both sitting straight up against the wall as Dmitri, Victor, and another man stepped into the room.

"Well, did you have a nice nap?" Dmitri asked congenially. "It's unfortunate that you fell asleep, because you missed a very nice lunch. I'm sure you would have appreciated the fine selection of wine, Danny-boy."

Peter and Neal sat silently watching the three men. Peter could tell that Neal wanted to respond to his step-father, but the younger man kept silent, encouraged by the pressure of Peter's elbow in his rib cage.

"You've had more than an hour to figure out what your next move is. Have you come to a decision, Danny? Are you ready to tell me where the diamonds are?"

"I can't tell you what I don't know," Neal growled. "How many times do you have to hear me say that before it sinks in, Dmitri?"

Dmitri glared at Neal. "I thought that maybe you truly valued Agent Burke's life, but perhaps I was wrong. Or maybe you just need more convincing of how serious I am. Where are the diamonds, Danny?"

Neal rolled his eyes and laughed. "I knew you were stupid, Dmitri, but I didn't know that you were this stupid."

"Neal," Peter growled, trying to get Neal to stop baiting the man. "Stop."

"You should learn to listen to Agent Burke," Dmitri snarled. "Thanks to you, the poor man is going to have to suffer again while I teach you a lesson. Victor, take Agent Burke into the next room again. Danny and I will be listening closely as you demonstrate why it's not a good idea to insult me."

Victor stepped forward to grab Peter, but Neal suddenly jumped forward, bringing his knee up between the man's legs. As Victor leaned forward in pain, Neal drove his knee upward again, making contact with the man's jaw. Victor flew backward, right into the other man standing beside Dmitri.

"Get him!" Dmitri yelled as he shoved the man forward. Victor fell to the floor, slamming his head against the concrete flooring when he landed. Neal barely had time to stand up before the other man threw a punch at him, landing it against the side of his head.

Staggering sideways, Neal managed to keep his balance despite the ringing in his ears and the dizziness that threatened to overtake him. Peter tried to climb to his feet to help Neal, but the new man turned his attention to him and quickly swept his feet out from under him, causing him to crash back to the floor.

Seconds later, the man was behind Neal and was pinning his arms behind his back. Neal struggled, but he was no match for the man with his head spinning violently with dizziness.

Dmitri opened the door and yelled for someone. Within seconds, another man had entered the room, rushing over to tie Peter up at Dmitri's command. Once Peter was secure, Dmitri turned back to the man that was still holding Neal.

"Hold him still, Sully."

The man's grip tightened on Neal's arm and pulled him up straighter. Neal couldn't do anything to protect himself as Dmitri stepped forward and punched him solidly in the stomach, taking his breath away completely.

Peter yelled at Dmitri to stop, but instead the man landed another punch into Neal's stomach. Neal still hadn't caught his breath from the first one, so with the second one, he could feel his lungs begging for air as his vision grew darker. He knew he was seconds away from completely passing out and he did everything he could to not let that happen.

Just as he felt like he was going to be okay, Dmitri nodded to the man that had tied Peter up. "Take over for me, Lukas. I just had a manicure a few days ago and I don't want to ruin it."

Dmitri stepped back to allow Lukas to take his place in front of Neal. Neal could see out of the corner of his eye that Peter was trying desperately to get to his feet. Unfortunately, with his hands tied behind his back and with his current injuries, he found himself too weak to succeed.

Not having the strength to help Neal, he fell back against the wall and helplessly watched as Lukas and Sully took turns beating the young man. He watched in horror as punch after punch was thrown into Neal's face, stomach, kidneys, and chest. He heard every gasp for air, every grunt of pain, and eventually he heard his own voice begging Dmitri to stop.

"Stop, Dmitri! Please! You're going to kill him!"

Dmitri looked over at Peter almost as if he had forgotten the man was even there. He then turned his attention back to Neal. To Peter's relief, he commanded the two men to stop what they were doing. With a mixture of relief and horror, Peter watched as Neal's body fell to the ground with a solid thud.

"Do you see what I mean, Agent Burke? The kid is nothing but trouble. You have no idea how many times I had to give him a sound thrashing because of his attitude. He never did know when to keep his smart mouth shut."

Peter felt a cold rage flow through him. "Leave him alone, Dmitri," he said. "If you know what's good for you, you'll leave him alone."

Dmitri laughed at Peter's words. "If I knew what was good for me, I would have taken care of the kid for good a long time ago. He's done nothing but bring me trouble since the very first day I met him. And if you knew what was good for you, you would rid yourself of his poisonous presence yourself, Agent Burke. Eventually, you'll learn that he's way more trouble than he's worth."

When Peter didn't answer him, Dmitri turned back to his two men. "You know what to do," he said to them before walking out the door. Peter had no idea what he meant by that, but he knew it couldn't be anything good.

* * *

Neal jerked awake when a bucket of ice cold water was suddenly thrown on him. Looking around, he desperately tried to get his bearings, and tried to figure out what the hell was going on. When his frantic gaze finally landed on Peter, everything came rushing back to him and he couldn't help the groan that escaped him.

Before he could say or do anything, another bucket of ice cold water drenched him a second time. His teeth suddenly started chattering, causing his jaw to ache even more agonizingly, and his chest burned as he tried to take in a deep breath.

"Get up!" Victor demanded as he threw a kick into Neal's thigh. Neal tried to push himself up, but his whole body was shaking violently.

"I said, get up!" Victor demanded again.

This time, Neal was able to slowly push himself up, sending waves of pain shooting throughout his body. His eyes burned with tears of pain and his breath was coming only in small gasps, causing him to feel light-headed again. Once he was standing as steadily as he was able to, he worked on taking deeper, slower breaths, knowing that it wouldn't be a good idea to pass out at the moment.

Just as he was beginning to catch his breath, Victor threw several punches at him, causing him to stumble and nearly fall. Fortunately, he stumbled over to where Peter was standing and the older man used his body to try to steady him.

Victor looked like he was going to advance again, clearly ready to dole out a severe pummeling, but was stopped by Dmitri's voice. "That's enough, Victor," he commanded.

"No, it's not," Victor replied angrily. "You saw what he did to me. He knocked out two of my teeth."

"I said that's enough. I _did_ see what he did to you, Victor, and I know you're angry. But, we're running out of time. Your revenge will have to wait until I get what I need."

Victor stepped away from Neal angrily. Dmitri, on the other hand, took a few steps forward, placing himself directly in front of his step-son.

"How about now, Danny? Are you ready to cooperate or do I need to show you once again how unhappy you're making me?"

When Neal didn't answer, Dmitri turned back to Victor. "I guess we're going to have to do this the hard way," he said. "Agent Burke, I regret to inform you that you're going to have to once again pay for Neal's lack of cooperation. Victor will see that he exacts the proper penalty."

Victor grabbed Peter by the arm and started to escort him from the room, but Neal suddenly shot forward.

"No! Wait!" he cried. "Wait, Dmitri. I'll get you the diamonds. Just leave Peter alone!"

With an evil smirk, Dmitri instructed Victor to let go of Peter. "I'm glad to see you've come to your senses, Danny-boy. Now, let's talk."

* * *

Author's note: Some of you may have heard of the school shooting at the community college in Oregon this past Thursday. My daughter goes to that college and was in class that day, less than a hundred yards from where the shootings occurred. Because of that, things have been crazy and my mind and emotions have been all over the place. I apologize for the shorter chapter, but it's really all I had in me to do.

I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, but it is what it is. Thank you all so much for reading. Let me know if there are things that don't make sense in this chapter and I'll try to work it out. And please, please hug your children, your family, your friends tightly and let them know how much you love them. Every single day, every single breath is a gift and should not be taken for granted.


	38. No Matter The Cost

What He Does Best

Chapter 38

* * *

Peter couldn't believe what he was hearing. _Did Neal really know where the diamonds were? Or was he just pulling another bone-headed stunt that was sure to get him hurt or killed? _Peter figured it could actually go either way, but he was definitely leaning toward the latter. Nothing in his investigations of Neal Caffrey had ever pointed in the direction of stolen diamonds. That meant that the kid was trying to steer Dmitri away from _him_, putting the man's undesirable attention solely back on his own head.

As anger rose up within him, Peter tried desperately to keep Neal from leaving the room with Dmitri. More than anything, he knew that they needed to stay together. He had no idea how they were going to get out of their current predicament, but he knew that they both worked better as a team.

Unfortunately, Dmitri ordered his men to stand guard in the room, informing them of the disagreeable end they would meet if Peter escaped. Peter stood helplessly as Neal followed Dmitri out of the room. At the last second, Neal turned and looked at Peter, giving him his patented "I've got this under control" look that so often meant that the kid had no idea what he was doing.

Fortunately for both of them, Neal was exceptionally good at improvisation. Unfortunately for Peter, that thought didn't make him feel any better.

* * *

Neal followed Dmitri out of the room, pausing only to give Peter a last look. He had no idea how he was going to get them out of their current situation, but his one and only goal was to make sure that Peter was safe. He would do anything to make sure that Elizabeth got her husband back in one piece, no matter the cost to himself.

Once they were back in Dmitri's office, Dmitri turned around and faced Neal. Neal almost recoiled from the savage and desperate look on his step-father's face, but was able to stand his ground. He knew that he needed to appear unruffled and calm, so he tried to slow his breathing down as much as he could.

"Well, let's hear it, Danny-boy. Where are my diamonds?" Dmitri finally said.

Neal's head was swimming violently, making him feel like he might pass out. On top of that, his ribs were aching terribly, burning with each inhalation of breath. Not wanting to appear weak in front of the two men, but also not wanting to pass out, Neal walked past Dmitri and sat down in the nearest chair.

Dmitri looked like he was going to say something, but instead he turned and walked behind his desk, taking his own seat. Victor remained standing behind Neal, blocking any escape he might attempt. Neal nearly laughed at the idea of trying to escape, knowing that he would probably only get about two steps in before collapsing to the floor.

Once he brought his thoughts away from any foolish escape plans, he looked up at Dmitri.

"I took the diamonds," he admitted. "I heard you and my mother talking about them that day and I decided to take them so I could get away from you."

"I already know that, Danny," Dmitri said exasperatedly. "And I don't care _why_ you took them. I just want to know where they are."

Neal's mind was working frantically to come up with a plan, causing his head to pound brutally. For several seconds, his stomach turned violently in an attempt to empty itself again. Neal took several deep breaths, trying to quell the nausea that was building. Eventually, the feeling passed and he turned back to Dmitri.

"I don't exactly know where they are at the moment," he said, bracing himself for and explosion. Before Dmitri could explode at his answer, though, he continued. "But, I can get them. I just need to call someone."

"I don't think so," Dmitri answered.

"Dmitri, you know by now that I have a partner that I do these things with. Most jobs require more than one person, so you have to find someone that you can trust implicitly. He's the only one I trust."

"Why does he know where the diamonds are, but you don't?"

"Two years ago, I got into a little bit of trouble and we were preparing to run. Since I was being watched closely by the FBI, he took care of liquidating some of our assets and securing the rest so that when the time came we could take off without hesitation. The diamonds are in a secure place, Dmitri. I just don't know exactly where. But, if I can call him, he can get them for us."

"I don't like this," Dmitri growled.

"I don't like it either," Neal admitted. "I would much rather keep him out of this, but I can't."

Dmitri was silent for several long minutes, but finally turned back to Neal. "What do you need to get in touch with him? How do we make this work?"

"I need my phone," Neal said. "He has a special emergency number I can call, but he won't answer it if it comes from an unknown number. It has to be from my phone."

Dmitri nodded at Victor, who opened the door and said something to the man standing guard outside of it. Once the door was closed again, Dmitri began to spell out the conditions of Neal's use of his phone.

"Do you see this?" he asked as he held up a walkie-talkie. "If you do anything stupid, I'll use this to tell my men to take care of Peter Burke. Is that clear? His life is in your hands."

Neal almost decided to scrap his plan, but he knew that he didn't have a choice_. This was their only chance to get out of there safely. _He did realize, though, that he needed to do _something_ to ensure that Peter would be safe.

"Listen, Dmitri…. I think I've made it clear that I'm willing to help you. I had nothing to do with the plan going south. I wanted to give you the painting to get you out of my life once and for all, remember? Now, I just want you to take your diamonds and leave me alone. But, I need your word that you won't hurt Peter. Let him go and I'll do whatever you want, I promise."

"Peter Burke is the only reason you'll do whatever I ask, Danny. Having him as leverage is the only thing that's keeping you from doing something stupid."

"Dmitri, please," Neal tried. "He doesn't need to be here. He isn't a part of this. Just let him go."

"Well, isn't that touching?!" Dmitri laughed. "If I didn't know better, I'd think that you actually really do care for the man…that you might actually even love him. How interesting…"

Before Neal could answer, the door opened and a hand reached in to Victor, handing him Neal's phone. Neal reached out for it, but Dmitri immediately stopped him.

"Victor will dial the phone for you, Danny, and hold it while you talk. That way you won't be tempted to send any secret messages. And I promise you that you won't like what happens if you do. Just remember that. You have two minutes once we turn the phone on."

Neal watched as Victor turned on his phone and pulled up his contact list before looking at him expectantly. "It's under Dante," Neal said. "Let it ring three times and then hang up. Wait ten seconds and then call again. Let it ring twice, hang up, wait another ten seconds and then call again. On the third call, he should pick up."

Dmitri and Victor both stared at Neal. "He's a little paranoid," Neal explained.

Seconds later, Victor turned the speaker on and Neal could hear it ringing. He hoped that Mozzie hadn't forgotten their special code. After the third ring, Victor hung up the phone and Neal almost found himself laughing again at the look on the man's face as he counted out the ten seconds. Once he was done, he dialed the phone again, let it ring two times, hung up, waited ten more seconds, and then dialed again. Much to Neal's relief, Mozzie answered on the first ring.

"Neal? Is that you? Where are you? What's going on?"

"Dante," Neal answered quickly. "I don't have much time, so listen. I need the diamonds."

"What diamonds, Neal? What are you talking about?"

"The diamonds, Dante. The ones under the Suit, remember? I need you to find them, wherever they are."

Neal was relieved when Mozzie didn't ask him again what he was talking about. Instead, his friend seemed to catch on to what Neal was doing.

"Oh! Those diamonds. Okay, what do you want me to do once I get them?"

Neal took a piece of paper that Dmitri was waving in front of his face. "I'll text you with further instructions. We don't have much time, so hurry, okay?"

"What about the Suit?" Mozzie asked.

"Don't worry about the Suit," Neal answered. "I'll take care of it. Just get the diamonds."

Victor abruptly hung up the phone and turned it off. Neal slumped down into the chair he was sitting in, hoping that Mozzie had caught on to what he was saying. He knew the man was brilliant, but his hints were ridiculously cryptic.

"What did he mean by "the suit"?" Dmitri asked immediately.

"It's nothing," he answered. "The last time I saw the diamonds they were hidden in the seams of a suit made for Frank Sinatra by Sy Devore. It's a personal favorite of mine, so I'm sure that Dante wants to make sure that the Suit will be okay if he rips the seams open."

Neal relaxed slightly when he realized that Dmitri wasn't going to question him further. "What's next?" he asked minutes later.

"Well, I guess we need to tell him where to leave the diamonds once he gets them, don't we? Victor will scout out a secure location, you'll tell him where to make the drop, and I'll finally get my diamonds back."

"What about Peter and me? What happens to us?"

"That depends entirely on you, Danny-boy. If everything goes as planned, you and Peter Burke can be on your way. If you mess this up….. Well, I don't think you'll like that outcome at all."

Neal couldn't help the small shiver that shot through him. He had absolutely no idea if his plan would work. In fact, he really didn't even have a plan at all. He was banking on the hope that Mozzie would be able to convince the FBI to help him. That in itself was a long shot, to say the least.

* * *

Seconds after Mozzie hung up the phone, he dialed another number. After several rings, someone finally answered, much to his relief.

"Mozzie? I'm sorry, but I don't have time to talk right now. I'm meeting with the regional director of the FBI. They might have a new lead on Peter and Neal," Elizabeth rapidly explained.

"Mrs. Suit, wait!" Mozzie yelled into the phone. "I have to talk to you!"

"It'll have to wait, Mozzie," Elizabeth answered. "I'll call you back as soon as we're done, okay?"

"No! Elizabeth, I have a lead myself! I just talked to Neal!"

"What?! Is he okay? Is Peter with him? What did he say?"

"Elizabeth, we don't have much time. I need you to get Jones and Diana and take them to Neal's apartment, okay? I'll meet you there."

"We'll be there in twenty minutes," Elizabeth said and then hung up the phone.

* * *

"Okay, explain it to us one more time, Mozzie," Diana said. "What exactly did Neal say?"

Elizabeth, Diana, Jones, and June were all gathered around the table, looking expectantly at Mozzie, who was just about ready to throw his wine glass at the wall.

"I've already explained it to you two times, Lady Suit! What more do you need to know?"

Diana huffed in frustration, rolling her eyes at the short, bald man sitting in front of her. Jones, who was just as frustrated as Diana, spoke up instead.

"So, let me get this straight...Neal told you that he needed you to get the diamonds and you think that by diamonds, he meant _us_? How did you come up with that?"

"It's obvious," Mozzie growled. "I was just as confused as you at first, but when I asked him what diamonds he was talking about, he said the ones under the Suit. It's obvious that the Suit he was referring to is Peter, therefore the diamonds under the Suit is obviously referring to you. Obviously."

"What if he was talking about actual diamonds?" Jones asked. "What if there wasn't any subterfuge involved and he just needs you to get the actual diamonds?"

"THERE AREN'T ANY ACTUAL DIAMONDS!" Mozzie yelled.

"Okay," Elizabeth said calmly. "Let's all calm down, okay?"

"We don't have time to calm down," Mozzie answered anxiously. "Neal and Peter need our help."

No one commented on the fact that Mozzie had just referred to Peter by his actual name, something that seemed to be happening more and more often.

"What else did Neal say? Did he say anything else about Peter?" Elizabeth asked, despite the fact that Mozzie had already been over it twice with them.

Mozzie gave Elizabeth a gentle smile. "When I asked him about the Suit, he said "Don't worry about the Suit. I'll take care of it.""

June, who up until that point had been unusually quiet, finally spoke up. "I agree with Mozzie. It's obvious that Neal wanted him to gather the two of you up. He has a plan, so we _must_ do whatever we can to help him."

"What do we do now?" Elizabeth asked.

"We wait," Mozzie answered. "Neal said that he would text me with further instructions. He said that we don't have much time, so we need to be ready."

"Ready for what?" Elizabeth asked.

"He'll probably text us with directions to a drop site. Dmitri will make sure that the drop happens quickly after he's given out the directions. He won't want to give anyone time to scout it out before hand," Jones explained.

"And what exactly are we dropping off?" Diana asked. "We don't have actual diamonds, remember? We don't even have an idea of how many diamonds we're supposed to have."

"We'll have to wait for Neal's text. He'll find some way to let us know what he wants," Mozzie explained. "Neal has a plan. He always has a plan."

* * *

Neal really, really wished that he had a plan. Dmitri definitely had the advantage and Neal was feeling a bit like a fish out of water. He knew he had to come up with a way to send a message to Mozzie, knowing that the poor man had no idea what Neal expected of him. For that matter, Neal had no idea, either. Somehow, he had to figure out how many diamonds Dmitri was expecting to recover and get a message to Mozzie, so the man could come up with a plan to fool Dmitri. Neal knew that it was a longshot, that there was really no way for any of his barely there plan to work, but what choice did he have? He had to do something.

Dmitri wasn't a stupid man, though. He would easily figure out that something was going on if they weren't careful. Neal had to figure out a way to convince Dmitri that he really did have the diamonds and that he really was planning on turning them over. And he had to do it fast. Dmitri was growing desperate and they were running out of time.

* * *

Author's note: I'm so sorry that I took so long to update and that this chapter is shorter than usual. No excuses….Just life, in general, getting in the way. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter and that it made sense to you all, especially the Suit/suit stuff. I don't think I'm good at being cryptic, lol.

I feel like we're heading into the homestretch in this story, which is interesting to me. It seems that my major stories end up being about the same length. Whatever It Takes and Let Your Heart Hold Fast were both 43 chapters, so maybe I'll try to finish this with the same amount.

Thanks for reading and for not giving up on me. I promise that I will not abandon this story. I'm also working on an update for Let Your Heart Hold Fast: Bicycles, Weddings, and Kittens, so be looking for that update soon.

Thanks again. I would love to hear your thoughts on the chapter/story. Take care.


	39. Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

What He Does Best

Chapter 39

* * *

To Neal's great relief, Dmitri ordered him to be taken back to the room where Peter was. To his even greater relief, Peter was just as he had left him earlier. It seemed that the man had behaved himself while Neal was gone, giving his captors no reason to mess with him.

Once Neal was shoved back into the room, he made his way over to where Peter was sitting against the wall. Taking a quick look over his friend, Neal was surprised to see that Peter wasn't looking very good, after all. His face was extremely pale and there was a fine sheet of sweat covering his body.

"Peter? What's wrong? You look terrible," Neal asked in concern.

"I'm fine," Peter quickly answered.

"You don't look fine," Neal countered. "Really, you look awful."

"I said I was fine, Caffrey. It's just a little warm in here."

Not believing for a single second that his friend was really okay, Neal turned to the man that was guarding the door. "Hey, he needs some water," he called towards the man.

Unfortunately, the man completely ignored him. Standing back up, Neal strode over to the door, causing the man to pull out his gun and pointing it at him.

"Get back!" the man demanded forcefully.

Neal stopped in his tracks and put his hands up in front of him in surrender. "Okay, okay," he said calmly. "Look, there's something wrong with him," he said as he pointed at Peter. "Could you please get him some water or something?"

The young man glanced over at Peter and seemed somewhat surprised to see the state he was in. Neal let out the breath he was holding when the man spoke into his radio, asking for some water. Minutes later, the door opened and several cold bottles of water were passed into the room.

Grabbing a bottle for Peter and for himself, Neal walked back over to his friend. Unscrewing the bottle, he handed it over to Peter, who weakly reached up for it. Neal's worry spiked even further when he saw how shaky Peter's hands were.

"What's going on, Peter? Have you ever had something like this happen before?"

"It's nothing, Neal. Just a little angina or something."

"Just a little angina? Are you serious? Have you had that before?"

"Calm down, Neal."

"I am calm," Neal started to say, his voice rising at least an octave in frustration and fear.

"No, you're not. Your voice sounds like a prepubescent teenager," Peter laughed.

Neal cleared his throat and started pacing the floor in front of his friend. "We have to get you out of here," he said. "You need a doctor."

Without another word, Neal strode back towards the young man guarding the door. "I need to talk to Dmitri," he demanded.

"Get back," the man shouted, pulling his gun back out in the process.

"Damn it! I need to talk to Dmitri, right now!"

When the man didn't make a move, Neal rushed forward, throwing his body against the man as hard as he could. Unfortunately, the gun he was holding went off when he impacted the floor and Neal felt a sudden sharp pain shoot through his side. Scrabbling around on the ground, Neal found the gun and pointed it at the young man, just as the door opened to reveal several more of Dmitri's men.

"Drop it," one of the men yelled as he pointed his own gun down at Neal.

"I need to talk to Dmitri," Neal demanded, his breath coming out in small gasps. "Right now!"

One of the men turned and left while the other two entered in the room, their guns still pointed at Neal. "Drop the gun," one of the men demanded.

Neal kept the gun pointed at the young man on the ground, trying hard to keep his hands from shaking.

"Neal! Drop the gun," Peter cried. "You've been shot!"

Neal glanced down at his side to see a patch of blood spreading across his shirt. That small glance away from the man on the floor afforded the other two men the time to make their move. Seconds later, the gun was ripped out of Neal's hand and he lay quietly at the feet of Dmitri's men.

"Get up!" one of the men demanded as he jammed the gun into the side of Neal's neck.

Neal stumbled to his feet, gasping at the pain that shot through him. Before anything else could be done, Victor shoved his way in past his men.

"What's going on?" he asked as he looked around the room. "Why did you shoot him? You had strict instructions not to shoot!"

"I didn't shoot him," the young man cried. "He rushed me and the gun went off in the scuffle."

Victor stalked over to where Neal was now sitting. "How bad is it?" he asked.

"It's just a graze on the side. I don't think it hit anything major, but it needs to be cleaned and dressed."

Victor turned back around to his men. "Someone go and get Jacobs. Tell him to bring his bag."

After one of the men left the room, Victor turned back to Neal. "What the hell were you doing?"

"I need to talk to Dmitri," Neal repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"All you had to do was ask," Victor answered. "I'm sure Dmitri has nothing better to do than to be at your beck and call."  
Neal started to reply, but was stopped by the sound of the door opening. They all watched as Dmitri entered the room, followed by a large man carrying a medium sized bag.

"What happened?" Dmitri asked coldly. "You all had strict instructions not to shoot!"

"He c-came at me, sir," the young man stammered. "My gun went off in the scuffle. It was an accident."

"An accident? He could have been killed!" Dmitri yelled. "Jacobs, attend to his wound. And you," he said, pointing at the young man, "get out of my sight. I'll deal with you later."

The young man turned and ran out the door, leaving Neal to feel a little guilty about what he had done. That feeling quickly left him, though, when Jacobs started poking around the bullet wound in his stomach.

Gasping for breath, Neal tried to turn his attention back to Dmitri. "Dmitri, Peter needs a doctor," he groaned, weakly pointing at the man sitting next to him.

Dmitri turned to look at Peter and was surprised at what he saw. "What happened? Did he get shot, too?"

"No," Neal tried to explain. "It's his heart. I think he's having a heart attack."

"I'm not having a heart attack," Peter added quickly. He had a sudden understanding of just what Neal was trying to do.

"He is," Neal continued. "Chest pain, pale skin, diaphoresis, weakness, shortness of breath. They're all classic heart attack symptoms. He needs to go to the hospital or he could die."

When Dmitri didn't answer straight away, Neal continued. "Dmitri, you don't want a dead Federal agent on your hands, do you? He needs a doctor."

"Jacobs, what do you think?" Dmitri asked.

Jacobs turned his attention away from Neal and focused on Peter. Taking Peter's hand in his, he checked his pulse. "His pulse is irregular, fast, and thready. He's short of breath and his skin is cold and clammy. I think he _is_ having a heart attack, boss."

"What can you do for him?" Dmitri asked.

"Not a lot. I think I might have some aspirin in my bag, but he needs a doctor."

Neal was relieved to hear Jacobs say that and prayed that Dmitri would go along with it. As he watched, Dmitri seemed to be thinking everything over, obviously thinking through how this would affect their plan.

"He needs help, Dmitri," Neal said. "And we don't need him to get the diamonds. You said it yourself…. He's just here to make sure that I do what you want me to."

Dmitri still looked to be thinking everything over.

"Listen, Dmitri. He has no idea where we are, so he can't lead anyone back to us. Have one of your men blindfold him and drop him off at the nearest hospital. Or take him somewhere and call an ambulance for him. Quit wasting time, unless you want to deal with what happens when a federal agent dies at your hand."

After several long seconds, Dmitri finally turned to Victor. "Blindfold him and put him in the car. Drive him at least twenty miles away and drop him off on a street corner. Make sure he has a couple of quarters to make a call."

Peter immediately started to protest, not wanting to leave Neal in the hands of Dmitri. Neal turned to look at his friend, desperation filling his eyes.

"Shut up, Peter, and go, okay? You need help and this is the only way you're going to get it."

"I'm not leaving you, Neal."

"You have to," Neal explained quietly. "You can't die because of me, Peter. I couldn't live with that. You have to go and get help."

"Neal…." Peter started, but was stopped when one of Dmitri's men pulled him to his feet.

"Go," Neal said. "I'll be okay."

Neal watched as Peter was helped over to the door. Just as he was about to walk through it, he turned back to Neal. "Just do as he says, Neal. Don't do anything stupid, okay? Just give him the diamonds."

"Take care of yourself, Peter." Neal turned his eyes away from Peter before he walked out the door. He didn't think he could take seeing him walking away, especially since he didn't know if he would ever see the man again. Once Peter was gone, he turned his attention back to his own situation. His left side was burning fiercely and he could smell the metallic scent of his own blood, which when combined with the pain he was feeling, started to make him feel nauseous.

Once Jacobs was done patching him up, he looked back up at Dmitri. "Thank you," he said simply.

"Don't thank me yet," Dmitri answered. "I read a report once that almost six hundred thousand people die of heart disease every year. Agent Burke may just be another statistic."

* * *

Peter was thankful when the car finally stopped. The obviously dirt roads they had travelled on only added to the ongoing nausea he was feeling. After they were off the dirt roads, they had travelled a few that were extremely curvy. Once he was out of the car, he was able to take in a few deep breaths of fresh air. In order to keep from falling on his face, he slowly sat down on the sidewalk, still blindfolded. He couldn't make out any sounds around him, other than the sounds of the two men that had been in the car.

As he listened, one of the men knelt down beside him, jamming his gun into Peter's side.

"Listen, Burke…..I want you to start counting. When you get to a hundred, you can take off the blindfold. There doesn't seem to be anyone around here, but I'm sure you can find help somewhere. Start counting…."

Peter listened as the man walked over to the car. Once the door was closed and the car pulled away from the curb, he took off the blindfold, trying desperately to get some information about the car and its occupants. Once the car was out of sight, Peter pulled himself to his feet and looked around. He seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, but he could hear a dog barking somewhere close by. Slowly, he started walking in the direction of the sound, hoping that it would lead him to an actual person.

After walking about a quarter of a mile, there was a slight bend in the road. Just on the other side of the bend, Peter could make out what looked like a small gas station/country store combination. By the time he reached the front door, he was sweating profusely and his head was swimming with dizziness.

Opening the door took almost all of his strength and he suddenly found himself falling down to his knees.

"Oh my," a voice said close by. "Sir, are you alright?"

Peter looked up to see a middle-aged woman staring down at him. "I need help," he said weakly, before completely passing out at her feet.

* * *

Elizabeth and June were sitting at the table in Neal's apartment. For some reason, they both felt more comfortable in Neal's little apartment than anywhere else. June figured that it had to do with the fact that she could feel Neal's presence everywhere, while Elizabeth thought that it was because she couldn't stand to be at home alone, where every single thing reminded her of Peter.

In the few years June had known Neal, he had come to mean so much to her. She couldn't imagine a life without the charismatic, intelligent, larger-than-life young man in it. She didn't want to imagine such a life, either. Neal had helped her through many lonely nights since he had come to live with her and she could remember each and every night clearly. They would either sit in her kitchen, enjoying whatever fancy coffee she had made, or they would sit out on his patio, sipping some fabulous wine he had brought home.

Sometimes, Mozzie joined them, but it was the nights that they spent alone that she cherished the most. In those moments, she could allow herself to imagine that Neal was her son. In a lot of ways, he reminded her of Byron, which made it all the more easier to imagine that the young man she had grown to love so much truly belonged to her.

She really didn't know what it was about the young man that made her want to mother him so much. If ever there was a man that could take care of himself, it was Neal Caffrey. But, despite the fact that he could con his way into or out of any situation, he still tugged at her heart strings and made her want to take care of him. Underneath that charming mask, there was an almost tangible vulnerability to the man. She knew that he was very careful with his heart, guarding it as if it were the most fragile possession in the world. She also knew, though, that when Neal Caffrey loved someone, he loved with every bit of that fragile heart.

June was aware that there were only a very few people that Neal Caffrey loved in such a way. Kate was, of course, the first one that came to her mind. Neal had loved Kate unrealistically, in her opinion. While she figured that the young woman had honestly loved him back in the beginning, it was obvious to her that greed had gotten in the way of that love towards the end. By the time Neal had found Kate again, much of that love had changed, even if the young man would never admit it to himself. Of course, he never really got the chance to see that because Kate had died right before his eyes.

The love he shared with Sara was much different. Sara was a self-made woman, who didn't need Neal Caffrey to take care of her. In a lot of ways, they shared the same fragileness, making it hard for either one of them to fully give in to the love they shared. Between the loss of Sara's sister and the loss of Kate, June figured that both Neal and Sara were just too scared to give fully of themselves.

Then, of course, there was Rebecca Lowe/Rachel Turner. June couldn't even begin to explain the bitterness of that relationship. The sad part, though, was that she could tell that Neal really cared for Rebecca in the beginning.

There had been a few other romantic relationships in the past, but for the most part, Neal's significant relationships were sparse. In fact, she figured that she could count on one hand the most significant people in Neal's life at the moment. She was proud to know that she was definitely one of those people, knowing that Neal saw her as more than just a landlady. In fact, she knew that he saw her as more like a motherly or grandmotherly figure.

Mozzie, of course, was Neal's oldest friend. He was the one that Neal knew he could always count on to do whatever was needed. Their bond was unique in many ways, but June knew that Neal loved Mozzie unconditionally. And he couldn't have had a fiercer protector than the one he found in Mozzie.

Elizabeth Burke was another person of utmost importance to Neal. June wasn't sure exactly how Neal thought of her, but she knew that he loved her dearly. She suspected that he saw Elizabeth as a cross between an older sister and a mother figure, mostly because she was fiercely protective of Neal. June couldn't help but laugh at the memory of Neal getting frustrated one evening when Elizabeth insisted that he finish all of his vegetables before he ate dessert. And, of course, anytime Neal was feeling under the weather, Elizabeth was right there to make sure that he was drinking enough water, taking his medication, and getting enough sleep.

Neal's relationship with Peter was perhaps the most complex of all. She could only imagine the frustration Peter must have felt in the beginning when he was trying to capture the ever elusive Neal Caffrey. She had heard stories from Elizabeth over the years about how that search had nearly ruined their marriage and how Neal Caffrey had been almost like an annoying house guest…. Always present in Peter's thoughts, interrupting meals when Peter would get news of some new lead, filling Peter's mind even when he was trying to sleep. It wasn't until she started to involve herself in the investigation that she grew to understand and take part in the near obsession that her husband had with the young man.

June also remembered hearing from Elizabeth how Peter had gone into a near depression once Neal had been caught and locked away. Elizabeth had explained that it was a combination of not having the challenge of chasing Neal anymore and the knowledge that someone so intelligent and so full of life was locked away in prison. Once the idea popped up of using Neal as an FBI consultant on the Dutchman case, Peter was like a new man. Or maybe just more like the man that he used to be.

Elizabeth had resented the return of the young man at first, but she quickly had grown to care for him dearly. Peter had once again blossomed into the amazing agent that had the highest closure rate in the district, but more importantly, he had a new zest for life that could only be attributed to the enlivenment that was Neal Caffrey.

Through the years, June had watched as Peter had taken Neal under his wing. Intellectually, they were equal counterparts to most degrees. But, it was obvious that Neal, who often acted recklessly and impetuously, needed someone with a firm hand to keep him in line.

Peter was that man. While he allowed Neal a certain amount of free rein, he was always there to rein the young man back in when needed. Peter's respect and admiration meant more to Neal than anyone else's. June knew how much Neal hated to disappoint Peter, not that that always stopped him from doing what he thought he had to do, unfortunately. She knew that the young man respected Peter immensely, and in his eyes, Peter was the epitome of what a real man should be. In his eyes, Peter was everything that he wanted to be. Unfortunately, those same eyes saw that he himself was far from being that type of man.

June had tried numerous times to get Neal to realize that he wasa good man, too, but Neal was never able to see past all the mistakes he had made. She didn't think that he ever would, either, which nearly broke her heart completely.

As she sat pondering all of this, Elizabeth was sitting beside her, pondering her own thoughts over a cup of tea. Suddenly, the silence they were sharing was shattered by the jarring sound of Elizabeth's phone ringing.

"Hello?" she answered quickly, hoping that someone, somewhere had found out something.

"Elizabeth? It's Diana. We found Peter."

"Where is he? Is he okay?" Elizabeth nearly screamed into the phone.

After several long seconds, where June watched as Elizabeth's face paled and her eyes filled with tears, Elizabeth hung up the phone.

"Peter's at the hospital," she whispered as she grabbed June's hand. "They think he's had a heart attack."

* * *

Author's note: Sincere apologies for the long wait. My creativity seems to have taken a bit of a vacation, but I think it's back now.

Well, it seems like Neal finally found a way to get Peter back to safety. Now, I wonder how he's going to get himself out of the mess he's in. Any ideas?

I really think there are only few more chapters left in this story, so we should be getting an answer to that question soon. I would love to hear what you guys think of this chapter, if there are any you left out there. Thanks so much for sticking with me and for reading. You guys are awesome.


	40. How Do I Find My Happy Place?

What He Does Best

Chapter 40

* * *

Elizabeth and June rushed to the hospital Peter had been taken to, not knowing what to expect once they got there. June, knowing that Elizabeth was in no shape to drive, enlisted her driver to take them. While they were in the car, Elizabeth was on the phone, getting updates from Diana as often as she could. All that Diana could tell them was that Peter was awake and alert, albeit very weak.

Arriving at the entrance to the hospital, June and Elizabeth quickly made their way to the Emergency Room. Elizabeth frantically informed the lady at the front desk who she was and minutes later, she was led back to see her husband.

June found Diana and Clinton Jones standing over in the corner of the room, both visibly shaken by the recent turn of events. Making her way over to where they stood, she immediately started questioning them about Neal

"Did you find Neal?" she immediately asked, hoping against hope that they had. "Is he okay?"

"I'm sorry, June," Diana answered sincerely. "It was just Peter and we haven't had a chance to ask him about Neal."

"What does that mean?" June asked as she nervously looked between the two agents. "Where could he be?"

"We're not sure, but we're doing everything we can to find him."

"What if that's not enough? What if he's out there all alone and he needs help? You have to do more?"

Diana shared a quick look with Jones before gently taking June's arm and leading her over to a chair. "June, Neal's probably one of the smartest men I know. He's clever and ingenious and he's been in worse spots than this. We have to have faith in his ability to take care of himself. At least until we can find him."

June took a deep breath and squeezed Diana's hand. "You're right, of course. Neal can take care of himself for now. But, don't stop looking for him, please. I think Peter will want to see him when he's all better."

"We won't stop looking for him until we find him. I promise."

* * *

Neal allowed Victor to lead him back to the small room he had been staying in, wanting only to collapse to the dirty floor in the corner. Once he was in the corner, he curled up into a ball trying to keep warm. His body ached all over, but he was pretty sure that the bleeding had stopped from the wound in his side.

He tried not to think about what was happening to Peter at the moment. The man had looked really sick when he had been escorted out of the room and Neal was scared that the man was having a heart attack or something. He only hoped that Peter had been able to get help in time.

Trying to go to sleep, Neal couldn't stop his thoughts from bouncing around in his head. He knew that Dmitri was extremely desperate and feeling pressure from whoever he owed money to. Because of that pressure, Neal wouldn't have the time to make sure his thrown together plan would actually work.

In fact, Neal knew that there wasn't much of a chance that it would work. Everything depended on whether or not Mozzie was able to decipher the cryptic message Neal had given him during that too short phone call. Even though he knew the odds were stacked against him, Neal chose to have faith in his bespectacled, bald-headed friend.

Not knowing what else to do, Neal finally closed his eyes and imagined himself sitting on a beach somewhere with some cold, tropical drink in his hand. When that didn't work, he imagined himself at the Louvre, feasting his eyes on the glorious masterpieces held within the museum. When that failed, too, he finally allowed himself to imagine that he was at home with Peter and Elizabeth, enjoying a marvelous meal prepared by Elizabeth, sipping on a glass of his favorite wine, and verbally sparring with Peter on the abhorrent nature of deviled ham sandwiches. Within minutes, he was finally asleep.

* * *

Peter woke up in a mild state of confusion. Within seconds, he heard voices instructing him to be still and to stay calm. Looking around, he noticed that he was surrounded by several concerned faces and a state of mild chaos. Minutes later, the sea of faces parted to reveal two EMTs who quickly went to work on him. Within minutes, he was placed in an ambulance and driven to the nearest hospital.

The whole way to the hospital, Peter had a feeling that he was forgetting something extremely important. He wracked his brain trying to figure out what it was, but with the frequent questions from the medical personnel and the pain he was feeling in his chest, he just couldn't get his mind to focus.

Eventually, though, the medics were able to get rid of the pain he was feeling and he could feel his mind clearing a bit. Immediately, he realized that he needed to call his team. While he wanted more than anything to talk to his wife, he knew that he needed to alert Diana and Jones that Neal was still out there and still in a lot of danger. He tried to keep his mind off the fact that Neal had been shot, but he kept hearing the shot echoing in his mind, along with the cry of pain that came from his partner.

Unfortunately, the paramedic wouldn't let him make a phone call. Instead, he frequently reminded Peter that he needed to remain calm and still. Of course, this only served to make Peter less calm, knowing that the delay was particularly dangerous for his partner.

Once they were at the hospital, Peter was whisked back into the Emergency Room, and another group of people swarmed over him. He couldn't do anything but answer the questions directed at him as the team of doctors and nurses hooked him up to various monitors and IVs.

He nervously listened as they threw around words that made no real sense to him. _STEMI….NSTEMI….ANGINA…..TROPONIN….. _Peter had no idea what these words meant, but he could tell by their voices that it was serious. Eventually, one of the doctors told him that he was having a heart attack and that they needed to take him to the cardiac cath lab for a coronary angiogram.

After a few more blood tests and exams, they were ready to take Peter to the cath lab, but before they could roll him out the door, he stopped them.

"Wait a minute!" Peter yelled, causing all of the staff to turn and look at him. "Wait! Before I go, I need to make a phone call," he explained.

The doctor that was in charge of his case looked sternly at his patient. "Mr. Burke, it is extremely important that we get you into the cath lab right away. Every second we wait, puts you at further risk for an undesirable outcome."

"I understand that," Peter answered. "But, if I don't make this phone call, there will be another undesirable outcome that I won't be able to handle. Please! I'm an FBI agent and my partner is in trouble. He's been shot and he needs help."

One of the nurses stepped forward with a pad of paper in her hand. "Mr. Burke, why don't you give me the number and I'll make the phone call myself? Will that work?"

Knowing that he didn't really have a choice and that he wouldn't be of much help to Neal if he died from a heart attack, Peter gave the nurse Diana's phone number and told her what to tell her. Seconds later, he was rolled through a set of double doors into the cardiovascular unit.

The next time Peter woke up, he was surprised to see Elizabeth sitting at his bedside.

"Hey, hon," she said quietly as she bent down to give him a gentle kiss. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't know," Peter answered. "Is it all over?"

"It is," Elizabeth said. "They just brought you back into the room with strict instructions to lay flat until further notice. That means no lifting your head off the pillow or bending your legs."

"What happened?" Peter asked, horror filling him as he saw his wife's eyes fill with tears.

"Oh, Peter," she cried. "You had a heart attack. The doctor said it was a good thing that you got help as quickly as you did because it could have been so much worse. He said that you had two blocked arteries, but they were able to put stents into them and open up the blood flow."

Peter couldn't believe that he had had a heart attack. He had always thought that he was a fairly healthy person. Other than a little bit of high blood pressure and a slightly too high cholesterol with his last check-up, he had never had any problems. Of course, he did work in a stressful job and taking on Neal had only added to that stress over the last few years.

_Neal! _

Elizabeth was surprised when Peter suddenly tried to sit up. "Peter! You're supposed to be staying flat, remember? You're not ready to sit up just yet."

"Where's Neal?" Peter asked in a slight panic. "Did they find him? Is he okay?"

Before his wife could answer him, the door opened and a rather intimidating looking nurse walked in.

"Mr. Burke, you can't be sitting up, remember? The doctor did your cardiac catheterization through the artery in your groin, so you need to keep still to prevent any bleeding from the site. Trust me, the last thing you want is to get a hematoma at that site."

Peter looked at the tall man as if he were speaking a different language. "The doctor went through my groin to look at my heart?" he asked in total confusion, causing both Elizabeth and the nurse to laugh.

"I know it doesn't make much sense, but that is a normal method," the nurse laughed. "My name is Chris and I'll be your nurse tonight."

"Wait a minute," Peter growled. "How long do I have to stay here? I feel fine and I have a job to do."

"Peter, you just had a heart attack," Elizabeth scolded. "You're not going anywhere until the doctor says you can."

"And that probably won't be for a few days, Mr. Burke," Chris added. "So, you might as well tuck in and get some rest. I'll be back in a little bit with your dinner."

Peter watched as the young man walked out the door before turning to his wife. "I can't stay here for a few days, El. I have to find Neal!"

Elizabeth's face turned a shade of red that Peter hadn't seen before, causing him to shrink back into the bed. "Peter Burke! You _will_ do as the doctor says, do you hear me? If I have to, I'll make them strap you into this bed!"

Peter didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the look on her face. The only other time he had witnessed Elizabeth looking so determined was when Neal had been recuperating at their house and was constantly testing his boundaries. He remembered how the young man had been so reluctant to let someone take care of him in the beginning, but quickly succumbed to the mothering and TLC of Elizabeth. She was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

Resigning himself to the fact that he wasn't going anywhere, and finally admitting to himself that he didn't have the strength anyway, he asked Elizabeth what was going on in the search for Neal. She quickly updated him on the little bit that she knew, which wasn't enough. Peter asked her to call Diana and ask her to come in for an update on the search. Once that happened, maybe he could actually get some much needed rest.

* * *

Mozzie was working diligently to pull together enough diamonds to make the drop once the time came. He had no idea how many diamonds they were supposed to have, so he decided to err on the side of having too many.

Pulling out all the stops, he sent out messages to the few fellow thieves that he at least somewhat trusted. Of course, trustworthy thieves were hard to come by and the only one he knew was Neal Caffrey. The second most trustworthy thief was Alex Hunter. He, of course, didn't trust her at all when it came to money or goods, but he knew that she cared enough for Neal to help him out in this situation.

Another thief that he thought could be somewhat trusted was a young man named Leo. They had met several years before when they both were using the same fence for particularly important objects. The fence was in the process of double-crossing Leo when Mozzie and Neal had come to his rescue, saving him a lot of lost money and maybe even his life. From that day forward, a unique bond had been formed between the three. Mozzie knew he could trust Leo with the current situation, as well.

Between Alex, Leo, June, and himself, Mozzie figured that he could come up with an adequate assortment of diamonds. Hopefully, it would be enough.

* * *

Neal woke up sometime in the night to someone kicking his foot. They weren't necessarily kicking that hard, but each kick jarred his body enough to reignite the pain in his side. Looking down at his abdomen, he was surprised to see what appeared to be fresh blood soaking through the shirt. _That wasn't a good sign._

Turning his attention back to whoever had been kicking him, Neal wasn't surprised to see that it was Victor. "Get up!" the man said as he continued to kick Neal's foot.

"Good morning to you, too," Neal replied cheekily. He tried to roll over and climb to his feet, but his body seemed extraordinarily heavy and non-compliant. He couldn't keep from wincing, either, as the burning intensified with the movement.

"You're not looking so good, there, Caffrey," Victor laughed.

Neal chose to ignore him for the time being, instead focusing his mind on staying upright. "What's going on?" he asked the man.

"It's time to make another phone call."

Neal followed Victor out the door and back down the hall to Dmitri's door. Once inside, Neal made his way over to the chair he usually sat in and waited for Dmitri to start talking.

"You're looking a little pale, Neal," Dmitri said as he leaned forward and closely examined the young man sitting in front of him.

"Really?" Neal asked. "Because, I'm feeling a bit flushed, to be honest."

Choosing to ignore Neal, Dmitri motioned for Victor to come in and close the door. Once the door was closed, he turned back to Neal. "It's time for you to make another phone call," he explained. "And you better pray that your man was able to collect the diamonds."

Neal took the phone that Dmitri was holding out and attempted to call Mozzie. His mind seemed a little fuzzy, almost as if he had drank several rather tall glasses of wine, so it took all of his concentration to remember the sequence of calls and rings that would alert his friend to his call. To his relief, Mozzie answered on the predesignated ring and Neal couldn't help but think that his friend's voice was the nicest thing he'd heard in a while.

* * *

Author's note: I know this chapter is really late and I'm really sorry to make you all wait. I've been having a bit of a hard time getting these chapters to flow well and I definitely don't want to force the story out. Don't worry (if anyone actually is)…..I won't abandon this story. We are almost at the end, so hang in there just a little bit longer. Take care and thank you all so much for reading.


	41. Never Surrender

What He Does Best

Chapter 41

* * *

Mozzie had no idea what he was supposed to do. He had gathered up what he hoped was an appropriate amount of diamonds and he was prepared to do whatever it took to get his friend back. The only problem was that the Suit was currently holed up in the hospital.

Doing the only thing he could think to do that didn't involve calling the FBI directly, he called Elizabeth. He could tell by the sound of her voice that she was extremely stressed and he really hated to add more stress to the situation.

"Mrs. Suit? It's me."

"Mozzie. Why are you calling? Did you find Neal?" Elizabeth asked immediately.

"No," Mozzie answered, knowing that he was disappointing her, as well. "But, I heard from him fifteen minutes ago. It's almost time, Elizabeth, so I need to talk to Peter."

"Mozzie, Peter just had a heart attack. We're supposed to be creating a stress-free environment for him."

"I know!" Mozzie exclaimed. "But, Neal needs help! We can't wait on this, Elizabeth. He sounded…. Well, he didn't sound like himself when he called."

"What do you mean, Mozz? How did he sound?"

"I don't know. Just not like Neal. He sounded dull, not sharp like he usually sounds. And he was talking slowly, too."

"Peter said that Neal had been shot in the side, but that it was just a graze. He said that he was alright when he left."

"WHAT?!" Mozzie yelled. "He was _shot_? And the Suit just _left him_?"

"Mozzie, Peter was in the process of having a heart attack!"

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth," Mozzie finally answered. And then, "I really need to talk to Peter."

Elizabeth hesitated for several long seconds before yielding the argument to Mozzie.

* * *

Peter listened intently to the one-sided conversation going on at his bedside. He knew right away that it was Mozzie and he could tell that Elizabeth was getting upset about something. With his own anxiety on the rise, he watched Elizabeth closely, hoping to glean something from her facial expressions, if not her words. A few minutes later, he was surprised when she handed the phone to him.

"Mozzie needs to talk to you, hon, but remember….you need to stay calm. The minute I see your heart rate increase by even one beat, I'm pulling the plug on this conversation. Is that clear, Peter Burke?"

"Clear, hon," Peter answered with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Taking the phone, he quickly greeted Mozzie and waited for the man to update him. Once Mozzie was done, Peter swung his legs over the side of the bed and made to stand up. He didn't even get his feet planted on the floor before Elizabeth stopped him.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a rather deadly calm voice.

"Neal needs my help, El," Peter answered as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"What Neal need is for you to be alive when he comes home," Elizabeth countered. "You haven't been cleared to go home yet, Peter Burke, so get back in that bed."

Peter hesitated for only the slightest of seconds before lifting his legs back into the bed. "I can't just sit here, El. I have to help him."

"Peter, you have two very capable agents heading up the search for Neal. You said it yourself, remember? Diana and Clinton are two of the best agents you've ever worked with. Trust them to do their jobs."

Peter wanted to argue, but he knew it was a lost point. He also realized that he was nowhere near ready to be walking out of the hospital and into a full investigation. The effort it took to just get his legs over the edge of the bed was nearly too much.

Not knowing what else to do, he picked up his phone and called Diana. After briefing her on the current plan for the drop and after going through every detail of their own plan, Peter gave Diana strict instructions to call with frequent updates before hanging up the phone.

Looking at his wife, who was looking him over intently, he wondered how hard it would be to convince her to let him sit in the stakeout van. By the look on her face, he knew that he didn't even need to bother her with such a silly thought. There was absolutely no way she would even consider such a half-baked idea.

With nothing else to do, he laid his head back on the pillow, closed his eyes, and prayed that everything would go as planned.

* * *

Everything, of course, didn't go as planned. Peter wasn't surprised to hear from Diana that the drop didn't happen, but he was surprised to hear that Dmitri never showed up. Nor did any of his men.

Mozzie had been ready. He held the bag full of diamonds close to his body, not wanting to take any chance that some New York thief might ride by on a bike and rip the bag out of his hand. He followed the rules of the drop to the letter, eager to do whatever he could to help bring Neal home. Once he dropped the package in the third trash receptacle from the men's bathroom on the northwest side of the Marcus Garvey Memorial Park, Mozzie quickly made his way back to the van.

It wasn't his first time in the FBI surveillance van, but he certainly hoped that it would be his last. Sitting in such close quarters with several FBI agents in such close proximity was Mozzie's idea of an absolute nightmare, but he endured it for the sake of his friend.

With multiple sets of eyes on the trash receptacle from all sides, they waited for someone to show up. They waited. And waited. Eventually, Clinton called an end to the operation, sending Mozzie back out to grab the diamonds.

The mood inside the van when he got back was stifling, to say the least. Diana was on the phone with Peter, giving him an update, while Jones and another agent were going through all of the surveillance tapes to see if something had given them away. When they found absolutely nothing suspicious, they looked them over again. And again.

Eventually, they called an end to the evening, leaving a fairly despondent Mozzie with strict instructions to call them as soon as he heard from Neal again.

* * *

Neal had been ready to make the drop. Actually, he had been more than ready, but just as they were loading him into the car, Victor's phone rang. Once he had answered it, Neal listened to what was being said with a growing frustration, and before he had even had a chance to sit down in the car, strong arms pulled him backward, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground.

Catching himself with his hands to prevent a face-plant, Neal felt the gravel dig into the palms of his hands. He also felt the gravel cut into his knees through his pants. Taking a few seconds to calm himself down, he slowly pulled himself upright.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Why aren't we leaving?"

"There's been a change of plans," Victor said crossly, as he pushed Neal back into the warehouse.

Once inside, Neal was taken back to his room, thrown into the darkness, and left alone. He had no idea why the drop had been scrapped and he had no idea what Victor meant by a "change in plans," so he found his way back into his usual corner and leaned against the wall. Within thirty seconds, he was sleeping rather soundly.

* * *

Sometime later, Neal was slowly waking up on his own when the door to his room flew open. The sudden bright light caused sharp pain to course across his eyes, but it didn't take him long to adjust. Unfortunately, when his eyes adjusted, he was subjected to the sight of Victor standing in the doorway.

"Get up! We're leaving."

Neal, knowing better than to argue or question the man standing before him, slowly pulled himself to his feet. He knew that the answers would come in due time and, unless he wanted to experience further pain, he needed to do what he was told.

Having to walk slowly due to the various injuries he was sporting, Neal walked through the door and waited for Victor to tell him where to go. A few minutes later, he found himself getting back into a car. He wasn't surprised to see Dmitri sitting in the back seat when he climbed in, but he was surprised when they didn't bother blindfolding him before the car drove off.

Sitting in the backseat, so close to a man he hated with everything he had in him, was another kind of torture for Neal. He hated that the man still had the ability to intimidate him and it took all of his attention and focus to not let the man know that he still had that power. Luckily, he had long ago managed the art of appearing calm on the outside while internally he was in utter turmoil. And Neal was a master at that specific art.

They drove for almost fifteen minutes before a single word was uttered by any of the occupants of the car. Of course, it was Neal that finally broke the silence, hoping to gain a little traction in whatever was happening.

"You know, we could have been done with all of this if you hadn't backed out of the drop. I'm sure my man was holding up his end of the deal. You could have been on your way to wherever you go when you're not messing up my life and I could have been done with you once and for all."

Dmitri didn't immediately answer, so Neal continued.

"What happened, Dmitri? We were so close to being done with this mess?"

"Shut up, boy!" Dmitri said vehemently. "You have no idea what's going on, so keep your insolent mouth shut!"

"Maybe you should fill me in," Neal answered.

"And why should I do that?"

"Because it obviously concerns me, too, right? Otherwise, I wouldn't be here."

"It's on a need to know basis, Danny, and you don't need to know right now. In other words, it's none of your damn business."

Neal knew that he should have just let it go, but he didn't. "I beg to differ, Dmitri. I think it _is _my damn business and I think I _do_ need to know what's going on. Maybe I can even help you out of whatever trouble you're in."

"What makes you think I'm in trouble, boy?!"

"I'm not stupid, Dmitri. I know that there are very few reasons why you would have scratched the drop like that. Obviously, something happened that made you panic."

"I didn't panic, boy. I made an informed decision based on the information at hand, and decided a change of plans was appropriate."

"Whatever you say," Neal said under his breath.

"What was that, boy?"

"Nothing important," Neal answered.

The rest of the trip was made in silence and eventually Neal fell asleep. He had no idea how much time had passed when he woke up to find the car pulling into the parking lot of an old building. Unfortunately, there weren't any cars in the small parking lot, so Neal knew there wasn't much chance of finding help.

With frustration building again, Neal turned back to Dmitri. "What's your plan, Dmitri? How long are we going to carry this on? I have better things to do than to follow you around, waiting for you to figure out what the hell you're doing."

"Don't push me, Neal. You won't like what happens if you do."

"I don't like this, either, Dmitri, so I'm not sure what I have to lose."

"Trust me, boy…..you still have a lot to lose. Should I name them all for you?"

Neal knew that Dmitri was referring to all the people in his life that he truly cared for. Weighing his chances of pissing the man off even more with his words, he decided to keep his mouth shut. He hated giving his step-father the satisfaction of knowing that he had won, but it wasn't worth the very real threat that had just been made.

Once the car was stopped, Victor opened Neal's door, grabbed him roughly by the neck, and pulled him out of the car. "You need to learn to keep your mouth shut, Danny-boy," he said. "For someone so smart, you can be completely stupid sometimes."

If Neal were honest with himself, he would admit that there was truth in Victor's words. He really could be incredibly stupid sometimes.

* * *

Two days after Peter was admitted to the hospital, he was cleared to go home with strict instructions to rest. Elizabeth really wasn't looking forward to trying to keep her husband at home when Neal was still out there somewhere, but she felt like she was up for the challenge. She had her ways of making sure that Peter did what he was supposed to do.

Once they were home, Elizabeth helped Peter get settled into his favorite chair before stepping into the kitchen to make him lunch. While he was in the hospital, Elizabeth had taken the time to clear out all of the unhealthy food in their cupboards and to restock them with healthier choices. She figured he wasn't going to be happy about it, but she knew it had to be done.

Once she was done with lunch, she called Peter to the table, prepared to deal with his disappointment.

"What's this?" he asked as he sat down in his chair.

"We're making a few changes around here, Peter. You're going to start taking better care of yourself."

"Okay," Peter answered. "But, I was really hoping for a nice deviled ham sandwich after all that hospital food."

"Definitely not! Deviled ham has entirely too much salt, Peter Burke!"

Peter looked down at the plate in front of him, wondering what exactly he was supposed to be eating. "What is this?" he finally asked.

"It's kale and quinoa, hon. Quinoa is a super food and it's full of protein."

"I don't like it," Peter immediately said.

"You haven't even tried it yet," Elizabeth laughed.

"I know I won't like it. It sounds like something Neal would like."

At the mention of Neal, the levity of the situation quickly vanished. Peter stared down at the strange food on his plate, wishing that his partner was there to tell him how good the stuff really was. It had been over forty-eight hours since he had last seen his partner and his worry suddenly spiked. He had talked to Diana just before leaving the hospital, but she didn't have any news to report.

"Peter," Elizabeth said quietly. "I know you're worried about Neal, but the doctor said to limit the stress, remember? You have to trust Diana and Clinton to handle this. They're doing everything they can to find him."

"I do trust them," Peter answered. "But, El…..I'm always the one to catch him, remember? It's what I do best. He needs me."

Elizabeth's face reddened in frustration. "We've been over this before, Peter. He needs you alive and well. If you don't give yourself time to heal and make a few lifestyle changes, you won't be there for him at all."

Peter knew his wife was right. After all, the last few days had truly scared him and had served as a major eye opener. He definitely needed to change a few things for his own well-being. For years, Elizabeth had been trying to get him to eat healthier, to get more sleep, to work less hours. Eventually, she even pulled Neal into her "Make Peter Healthy" campaign. The man was relentless in his desire to help Elizabeth.

"Listen, hon," Elizabeth said. "Eat your lunch and then we can settle down for a late afternoon nap, okay? When we wake up, you can call Diana again and find out what's happening. Does that sound okay?"

It didn't sound okay, especially because the last thing he felt like doing was taking a nap. _His partner was out there, already injured and definitely still in danger, and he was going to take a nap on the couch? _ No, that was definitely the last thing he wanted to do.

* * *

Neal wasn't sure of how long they had been in the new place, but he knew that he hated it even more than the last place. The room he was in was smaller than the last and quite a bit draftier. It was so cold, in fact, that he was pretty sure he could see his breath in the air. The cold also seemed to settle into his chest and before he knew it, he found himself with a violent cough. Once he felt himself starting to get feverish and short of breath, he knew that he needed to do something. He had to find a way out of the situation he was in. It had gone on long enough!

* * *

Author's note: Well, this one's a little shorter than usual and extremely late, too, but I hope you all enjoyed it. I'm figuring on probably two more chapters to finish this story, give her take, so hang in there. We're almost there!

Thank you all so much for sticking with this story. You are all very much appreciated (and adored).


	42. Oblivion

What He Does Best

Chapter 42

* * *

Peter knew that he was being impossible and he didn't blame Elizabeth at all for feeling like she needed to get out of the house for a while. It had been almost a week since Mozzie had last heard from Neal and in that time there hadn't been any leads at all in the case. Not a single blip on the radar. Not a single whisper in the wind. Of course, because of that, Peter was becoming increasingly anxious and incredibly hard to be around. _Or so Elizabeth kept saying._

Having ended their third argument of the day by lunchtime, Elizabeth grabbed her purse, said something about needing to deal with something at work, and walked out the door, leaving Peter to continue pacing the floors of the small house. Unfortunately, that's all he had been doing for the last week. Pacing the floor and constantly checking in with Diana and Jones. It seemed that even his two junior agents were getting a little annoyed with him.

By the time Elizabeth returned that evening, Peter was actually sulking in his armchair and looking like someone had rained on his already wet parade.

"Hey, hon," she said tersely, as she walked straight into the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee. When Peter didn't respond, she poked her head into the living room to check on him. "Are you feeling okay? You look a little flushed."

"I'm fine," Peter answered just as tersely.

Elizabeth walked back into the living room, forgetting all about the coffee. "What's wrong?" she asked, giving him a look that told him he had no choice but to answer.

"I just got off the phone with Diana," he said with a pout.

"And?"

Elizabeth nearly laughed at the look on her husband's face.

"She told me to stop calling her," Peter answered, obviously offended by the recent event.

Elizabeth _did_ laugh at that. "I'm sure she didn't really tell you to stop calling her," she chided.

"She did!" Peter exclaimed. "She said she would call me in the morning, unless something changed, and that I wasn't to call her again today. Can you believe that?"

"Well, how many times have you called her today, hon?" Elizabeth asked.

"I don't know," Peter said with a shrug. "Maybe ten times?"

"Peter Burke!" Elizabeth exclaimed with a laugh. "You've called the poor woman ten times just today?"

Peter blushed even more at that.

"And Jones? How many times have you called him today?" she continued.

"Only a few," Peter admitted. "Jones told me to stop calling, too."

"Honey, how many times do we have to go over this?! Diana and Clinton will call you the minute they get even an inkling of a lead. You have to let them do their job."

"I know," Peter said in defeat. "It's just….. well, it's always been _my_ job to find Neal. It's what I do best, remember?"

"How could I forget?!" Elizabeth laughed. "If _you_ remember, I've been with you every step of the way on several different occasions. But, this time is different, Peter. You just had a heart attack."

"I know!" Peter exclaimed, letting his frustration get the better of him again. And then, "I'm sorry, El. I'm just not that good at feeling helpless."

Elizabeth knelt down in front of her husband, placing her hands on his knees as she looked up into his face. "You're not helpless, Peter. But you do have to take it easy for a while. What would Neal say to you if he were here right now?"

"Probably something annoying," Peter answered with a small smile.

Elizabeth laughed, but then turned serious again. "We're going to find him, hon. And we're going to bring him home, where I'm sure he'll waste no time in annoying you as much as he can."

Peter found himself looking forward to that.

* * *

Neal Caffrey did what he did best. What he had always done best….. he ran.

As he ran, he wondered, not for the first time, why he was so good at running. Was it just in his nature? Was it something inborn in him? Something that generations of Caffreys had excelled at for hundreds of years? Or was it something he had learned to do throughout his life as a means of self-protection? Nature vs. Nurture…..which one was it? Or was it maybe just a little bit of both? Whatever the reason, he really wished that he wasn't so good at it.

Neal wasn't proud of the fact that he ran when things got sticky, but he did see the intelligence behind such an act. Running wasn't always a desperate, cowardly deed. In fact, sometimes it was a well calculated plan, executed at the most opportune moment. A successful con artist recognized the value of a good escape plan in any situation. And the situation he had been in for the last however many days definitely warranted a good escape plan.

He had no idea of how much time had passed since Dmitri had relocated them to the place Neal himself had dubbed as "Hades." He knew it had at least been four days, but he was pretty sure that it had been even longer than that. For the most part, Dmitri had left him alone, only checking in on him a few times. Victor and another man had been the ones to tend to his needs, bringing him food and water sporadically, and taking him to the bathroom a few times a day and to the shower every once in a while. Not often enough for Neal's liking, of course, but it was better than nothing.

When he wasn't in the bathroom, Neal was in the small room that had become home to him. Someone had seen fit to throw him a blanket, pillow, and a flashlight in the first few days, much to his relief, but in order to conserve the batteries in the flashlight, he only used it sparingly.

The whole building had a strange, musty odor to it, and the water smelled like sulfur, making Neal think that they were probably using water from a well. Not that really helped him much, other than to tell him that they were probably not within the limits of a city.

With nothing better to do, Neal spent his every waking minute trying to find a way out of the hell-hole he was in. He searched every nook and cranny of the small room, but found no way out, other than the door that was always locked from the other side, and had no door knob on his side of the room.

Whenever he was outside of his room, he looked around, trying to commit to memory the layout of the place they were in. Victor, or the other guy who never actually spoke to him, never allowed him much time to look around, as they shuffled him to the bathroom and back.

The bathroom itself was a small room with only a tiny window at the top, much to his disappointment. Even if he felt strong enough to pull himself up to the window, there was no way his frame would fit through it. And, of course, every time he took a shower, someone was standing guard right outside, not giving him the opportunity to escape that way, either.

It wasn't until the fourth time they had taken him to shower that he found the opportunity to make his move. Usually, he would only be allowed three to five minutes to shower before someone banged on the door, telling him to get out. Then, he would be allowed about two minutes to dry off and put his clothes back on before the door opened up. Neal had everything timed out perfectly, so as not to make Victor unduly mad while he was in such a vulnerable position.

This time, however, Neal was surprised that no knock came from the door to tell him that his time was up. Getting out of the shower, he dried off as quickly as he could, waiting for the knock to happen. When it still didn't occur, he stepped over to the door and turned the handle. Not surprisingly, it was locked. What was surprising, though, was that no one seemed to be on the other side of the door.

Not wanting to waste any time, Neal gave a gentle knock on the door, to see if anyone would answer. When no one answered, he quickly started to look around to see if he could find anything to pick the lock with. He searched several drawers by the bathroom sink, but each one of them was completely empty. He checked under the sink, only to find that it was empty, too. Just as he was about to give up, he eyed the shower curtain and, more specifically, the shower curtain rod. Taking the tension rod down, he quickly took it apart, exposing the springs that were inside of it. With a lot of desperate strength, coupled with a fair amount of praying, Neal was able to work the spring out into a hopefully workable lock-pick.

Once he started working at the lock, it only took him about thirty seconds until he heard it spring open. With great caution, he opened the door slightly and looked around. When he didn't see anyone, he cautiously crept out of the bathroom and headed toward what he thought was an exit. Expecting to run into Victor at any moment, Neal was surprised to see that the place looked completely deserted.

_What was going on? Where was everyone?_

Without thinking too long or too hard about where his captors could be, Neal made his way outside. Breathing in a lungful of the crisp, clean air, he wasted no time at all in heading for safer ground. Luckily, there were quite a few trees surrounding the lone building, so Neal made his way toward the closest ones.

Once he felt like he was well hidden, he paused long enough to take stock of what was going on. Dressed only in a pair of sweats, a t-shirt, and a thick pair of socks, he realized that he wouldn't be quite as fast on his feet as he normally was. Adding to that the fact that he was more than likely severely dehydrated, malnourished, and nursing multiple injuries, he knew that he wouldn't be able to rely on speed with his escape. It was obvious that the only way he was going to make a clean getaway was to be as stealthy and as clever as he could be.

Looking around, he realized that Dmitri's car was nowhere in sight. He also noticed the late afternoon sun glinting off of something at another entrance to the building. After his eyes adjusted a little, he could tell that what he was seeing was the sun glinting off of the sunglasses of the man who was supposed to be watching him. The man was talking on the phone and pacing agitatedly back and forth. Seconds later, he apparently finished his phone call, put the phone in his pocket, and turned back into the building. Neal knew that it would only be a few seconds before the man realized that his captive had escaped. With that in mind, Neal turned and made his way through the thick copse of trees, determined to figure out where he was and to find help.

* * *

It took everything Dmitri had in him to keep from taking Victor's gun and shooting the man responsible for letting Neal escape, right then and there. The man admitted to stepping outside long enough to take a call, but insisted that it was only for a few minutes and that the prisoner had been locked in the bathroom. Dmitri wanted to laugh at the idiot for thinking that Neal Caffrey could be stopped by a cheap lock on a standard bathroom door. He also wanted to kick _himself_ for thinking that Neal Caffrey would be stopped by a cheap lock on a standard bathroom door. _What was he thinking?!_

Within minutes of finding out that Neal had escaped, Dmitri and Victor made their way back to the hideout. The young man was pacing nervously in front of the building when they finally arrived. He even more nervously informed the two men that he had followed Neal's trail into the dense woods, but had quickly lost the trail. Dmitri could tell that the young man was scared for his life, but he felt no sympathy for him. His idiotic mistake could very easily cost Dmitri everything.

Leaving Victor to take care of the idiot, Dmitri went into the building and made some phone calls.

* * *

After what seemed like hours of wandering through the woods, Neal had to stop for a break. His mouth was so dry that he could barely swallow what little saliva he had, and his heart was pounding violently in his chest. Adding to that the fact that he was getting weaker and dizzier by the second, Neal knew he couldn't go on much longer.

His socks were offering little protection to his feet, and his knees and hands were bleeding from the several falls he had already taken. None of the usual Neal Caffrey gracefulness was evident at the moment. In fact, Neal was feeling clumsier by the second. When he started feeling a little disoriented, he sat down behind a tree, determined to take a break and clear his head a little. Leaning his head back against the tree, he closed his eyes, against his better judgement.

The temperature had fallen quickly once the sun went down, and Neal's meager articles of clothing did little to conserve his body heat. With the exhaustion he was feeling, the fever that was ravaging his body, and the low temperature of the night, he soon fell into a restless oblivion.

* * *

Author's note: Hello? Is there anyone still out there? I am truly sorry for the long wait for this chapter. Between the holidays, a flu virus running through my house, and me having to study for a really tough certification for my job, I really haven't had time to write. The good news is that I took my certification exam today and passed, so I rewarded myself by sitting down and writing for several uninterrupted hours. I don't think there's much else that makes me as happy, besides my family, of course.

This chapter is a little shorter than most, but I promise that the next one will be a doozy. Oh, and how many of you noticed that I tied this chapter in with the very first chapter of the story? I planned on doing that all along, but I'm really not sure how well it worked out. Anyway, I am going to try my very best to have a new chapter posted soon. And, of course, a new chapter in the Let Your Heart Hold Fast universe, as well.

Thanks to all of you who have stayed with this story. And thanks for all of the new readers, too. You are all very much appreciated. I hope you enjoyed the chapter.


	43. Trouble Is My Constant Companion

What He Does Best

Chapter 43

* * *

Neal woke up to the feeling of someone staring at him. Before he opened his eyes, he listened to the sounds around him, hoping to glean something from what he heard. At first, he was surrounded by silence, but eventually he was able to make out the sound of someone breathing softly, somewhere off to the left of him. After a few more seconds of listening, he slowly opened his eyes, making sure to not move in any other way.

Once his eyes were opened and adjusted to the gloominess of the room, he could make out what appeared to be an older woman, sleeping in the corner, a shotgun leaning against her leg. Looking around further, he could see that the rest of the room was empty. Apparently, no one was actually staring at him, much to his relief.

Seeing the gun was a bit of a game-changer, so Neal decided to be patient. Instead of making his escape, he lay quietly on the sofa and took inventory of his various injuries. Other than the wound on his side from where the bullet had grazed him, Neal's other injuries were minor. Scraped hands, scraped knees, lacerated feet from running through the woods without shoes, his chest burned whenever he took a deep breath, his head ached a little, and his throat was so dry that it actually hurt. Other than that, he was perfectly fine.

Wishing that he could just close his eyes and go back to sleep, Neal knew that he had to make a move of some kind. The longer he waited without doing anything, the more time Dmitri had to find him. Not wanting to make any sudden moves that might startle the woman in the corner, Neal let out a weak cough. He was a little embarrassed to see that it was so weak that it did nothing to alert the woman to his awakened state.

Trying again, he coughed a little more forcefully, causing the burn in his chest to intensify quickly, which led him to cough even more violently. By this time, his eyes were watering copiously and he could barely catch his breath. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, all of the commotion served to wake the woman up from her sleep and the next thing Neal knew, she was standing in front of him, the gun pointing directly at his chest.

"Don't move!" she exclaimed loudly.

Neal put his hands up in the air, hoping to show her that he wasn't about to do anything. Looking at the woman, he almost wanted to laugh. Standing up, he could see that she was barely over five feet tall and probably weighed only a little over a hundred pounds. Despite her small stature, though, he could tell that she knew how to handle a gun.

"I'm not moving," Neal answered softly. "I won't move."

After several long seconds of silence, she pointed the tip of the gun down to his side and then back up to his chest. "What happened to you?" she asked. "It looks like you were shot. And what were you doing in my woods?"

"Listen," Neal answered. "I need to make a phone call. It's really important that I make a phone call."

"Answer my question!" she growled. "What happened to you and why were you in my woods?"

Neal wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but he knew that wasn't a good idea. Instead, he tried to find a way to explain his situation. "I was trying to get away from someone," he explained. "A man was holding me against my will and I escaped. I'm trying to get back home."

"How do I know that you're not lying to me, young man? How do I know that you're not running away from the law?"

"If you'll let me make a phone call, I can prove it to you."

"I don't have a phone," she stated. "Junior has it."

"Who's Junior?" Neal asked.

"He's my son and he's not here right now. He went to check out a few things and won't be back for a while."

Neal sighed in frustration. Not knowing what else to do, he turned on what was left of the Neal Caffrey charm and downright pleaded with the woman.

"Ma'am, I really need to get out of here. The men that took me are going to be looking for me and I can't let them find me!"

He was surprised when the woman burst into laughter. "No one's ever called me ma'am before," she laughed. "But, I like it. Makes me feel special. But, you can call me Ruth."

"Ruth," Neal answered. "It's nice to meet you, Ruth. I'm Neal."

"Well, Neal, how about I get you something to eat and drink and you tell me what happened to you?"

Before Neal could answer, Ruth turned toward the small kitchen, never fully turning her back on her house guest. A few minutes later, she placed a tray on the small table in front of Neal. To his surprise, she helped him to sit forward, placing a few pillows behind his back to support him, and pulling a blanket across his lap. Under her watchful eye, Neal took a long sip of water and bit into the bagel she had toasted for him.

* * *

By the time Neal was done eating the small meal, he had explained to Ruth some of what had happened to him, causing her to be angry on his behalf. After hearing of the particular nastiness of Silas Dmitri, she spent a large amount of her time peering out of the small front window. Once he had finished, Neal started asking a few of his own questions, hoping to piece together what had happened to him after he had passed out.

He was surprised to discover that Junior had lifted him up and carried him through the woods and into the small house with very little difficulty. It was a little disconcerting to find out that all of that had happened while he was unconscious, and he felt a surge of gratefulness shoot through him that it had been Ruth and her son that had found him and not Dmitri's men.

After what seemed like hours to Neal, the sound of someone walking up the front steps finally came. Neal couldn't help but tense up a bit at the sight of the rather large man that entered the small room. The man was so large, in fact, that the furniture in the room suddenly looked like children's playhouse furniture.

Neal warily watched the man cross the floor to the small woman and was surprised to see the gentle kiss he placed on her cheek. Before he could think about anything else, though, the man turned his gaze onto him.

"He's awake, Mama!" the man suddenly cried out. "He's awake!"

"It's okay, Junior," Ruth said gently. "He's not going to hurt us."

Junior eyed Neal just as warily as Neal was eyeing him, but after several seconds, he looked back at his mother. "He's not?"

"Nope. In fact, I think Neal here is going to be our friend," she explained.

"Neal?" Junior asked in a still rather uncertain voice.

"Yes, sweetheart…. His name is Neal."

Neal looked at the big man standing before him and offered up a smile before extending his right hand out in front of him. "Hi, Junior. It's nice to meet you."

With a gentle nudge from his mother, Junior stepped forward and extended his own hand out. Neal nearly winced at the strength behind the man's handshake that was unknowingly smashing his fingers together.

"It's nice to meet you, too, Neal," Junior said softly. "I've never had a friend before."

Neal felt a pang of sadness wash over him at the young man's words. He could tell that Junior was developmentally slower than others his age and he found himself truly wanting to befriend the gentle giant.

"Hey, Junior….your mom told me that you carried me out of the woods and into the house."

"I did!" Junior answered loudly. "And I didn't drop you at all. Mama said you were already hurt and that I had to be really careful."

"Well, thank you for that," Neal said with a genuine laugh. "I appreciate you being so careful."

Turning back to Ruth, Neal quickly asked if he could finally use the phone. To his relief, she took the older cell phone from Junior and handed it to him.

* * *

Peter had just settled down in front of the television when his cell phone rang. Hoping that it might be Diana or Jones with an update, he was surprised to see that it was an unknown number. He was in such a hurry to answer the call that he nearly dropped the phone twice before finally getting it up to his ear.

"Special Agent Peter Burke here. Who is this?"

"Special Agent Peter Burke, this is your Very Special Informant Neal Caffrey," Neal answered with a laugh.

"Neal! Where are you?! Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, Peter. Calm down before you give yourself another heart attack."

After a short pause, Neal's voice suddenly filled with concern. "Wait a minute… Are _you_ okay?"

"I'm fine," Peter answered. "Elizabeth won't let me do anything on my own, but I'm fine. Now, where are you?"

Peter listened anxiously while Neal filled him on recent events. After Neal relayed his whereabouts, Peter picked up his house phone and quickly dialed Diana's number. Neal listened as Peter gave her instructions to mobilize a small group of agents. He laughed when he heard the man giving explicit instructions to Diana to come and pick him up before heading out to find Neal.

After Peter was sure that Diana would do as she was told, he went back to his cell phone.

"We're on our way, partner. Diana will put in a call to local law enforcement, too, so just hang in there. Help is on the way."

"Thanks, Peter," Neal said. "I'll see you when you get here."

Both parties reluctantly hung up their phones, neither one wanting to sever the call that finally connected them again.

* * *

Once Neal hung up the phone, he handed it back to Ruth. "My partner is on his way. He also said that they were contacting the local law enforcement. How long do you think it will take them to get here?"

"I don't know," Ruth answered truthfully. "There's only two officers on shift at any given time, so it depends on whether they're out on another call or not. The station is only about five miles away."

Neal didn't place a lot of confidence in the effectiveness of two small town officers against Dmitri and his men, but he wasn't about to count them out. _At least they were trained in the use of guns, right?_

Not having anything else to do, Neal sat back down on the sofa and looked at Ruth and Junior. "So, what do you for fun around here?" he asked with a grin.

"I like to play games, Neal," Junior said excitedly. "Do you wanna play a game?"

"Sure, Junior…. What game do you want to play?"

Neal watched as Junior stood up and went over to a small book case. Seconds later, he returned with several board games and placed them on the table in front of Neal.

"Which one do you want to play, Neal?" Junior asked.

Neal looked at the board games, not recognizing any of them. "You pick, Junior," he said.

Junior's face lit up as he reached for the one on the left. "This one! I'm really good at this one."

"Well, that one it is, then," Neal answered. "But, I don't know how to play, so you'll have to teach me."

Neal listened quietly as Junior explained to him the intricacies of a game called Trouble.

* * *

Peter wasn't happy to find out that Neal's location was almost two hours away by car. He was even less happy when Hughes told him that the higher ups had denied his request for a helicopter. The icing on the cake was when Diana informed him that the local law enforcement was unavailable to collect Neal from wherever he was. Actually, the thought of his partner having to wait two more hours to be rescued made him angrier than he had been in a very long time.

Peter checked in with Neal on several different occasions during the trip, wanting to make sure that his partner was still okay. He could hear laughter in the background on his most recent call, making him wonder what Neal was up to.

"What are you doing, Neal?" he asked.

"What am I doing? I'm waiting on the FBI to get their butts over here," Neal laughed. "What else would I be doing?"

"Who's laughing in the background?"

"That's just Junior," Neal explained.

"Who the hell is Junior?" Peter growled, growing frustrated with Neal's lackadaisical answers.

"Junior is my new friend, Peter. He's keeping me occupied while I wait for the not-so-expedient FBI."

"I'm trying, Neal," Peter said, sounding particularly wounded by Neal's statement.

"I know you are, Peter," Neal admitted. "I'm just really ready to go home."

"Okay, we're about an hour out and Jones is pushing this vehicle as hard as he can. Hold on, we're coming."

"I'm trying," Neal answered.

Peter reluctantly ended the call again.

* * *

The next time Peter called to check in with Neal, the phone just rang and rang.

* * *

After the fifth game of Trouble, Neal was just about to suggest playing a different game when he heard noises outside. Looking down at his watch, he realized that it was still too early for it to be Peter. That meant that it was probably Dmitri and his men.

Motioning for Ruth and Junior to be quiet, Neal made his way over to the small window, pulled the curtain slightly to one side, and looked out into the front yard. His stomach flipped when he saw several dark shadows moving through the tall grass.

"It's them," he whispered loudly.

Ruth quickly sprang into action, motioning for Neal to get away from the window. "Junior," she whispered. "Take Neal into your room and show him the trapdoor, and then stay in your room, okay? Go! Quickly!"

"No," Neal growled. "I'm not leaving you to deal with them, Ruth."

"I can handle them, Neal. Just go and hide. Now!"

Neal reluctantly followed Junior out of the room and into the next. He waited while Junior grabbed a flashlight and then followed him over to the closet. Once the closet door was opened, Neal could see the small trapdoor in the ceiling. The last thing he wanted to do was to climb through that trapdoor and hide away while Ruth and Junior faced Dmitri, but he knew it was the best plan. _Maybe, just maybe, she could convince them that she knew nothing about him._

Junior helped Neal climb through the trapdoor, before going over to sit on his bed. Neal laid down on the attic floor and opened the trapdoor enough to be able to hear. He knew that he would do whatever he could to protect Ruth and Junior from Dmitri's evil, so hiding was the absolute last thing he wanted to be doing.

* * *

Ruth opened the front door after the second knock. She tried to look surprised to see the three men that were standing on her front porch…. One rather large man, one rather young man, and one older man.

"Hi. Can I help you?"

The older man was the one that spoke. "Good evening, Miss. I wonder if you might be able to help us out…."

"That depends," Ruth said with a smile. "What do you need help with?"

"Well, a young man from our group was separated from us in the woods. Maybe you've seen him? He's about my height, but quite a few pounds lighter. Dark hair, blue eyes, pretty good-looking guy?"

"I'm sorry, but I haven't seen anyone around here lately. We don't see too many people in this part of the woods."

"We?" Dmitri asked. "You live here with your family?"

"Just me and my son, Junior," Ruth answered.

Dmitri seemed to be looking at something just past Ruth, who shifted her body in an effort to block his view.

"Just the two of you, huh?" he asked loudly.

"Yes, now if you don't mind, I need to get started on dinner."

Ruth tried to close the door, but Dmitri's foot suddenly kicked the door open further. "Listen, Miss….I don't want any trouble from you. I just need to find my colleague and then we'll be on our way."

"I told you…..I haven't seen anyone," Ruth said again.

Without another word, Dmitri pushed past Ruth and into the living room.

"Hey," Ruth yelled. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to find out why you're lying to me, Miss. You said it's just you and your son, but I see three glasses of water on the table. Who is the third glass for?"

When Ruth didn't answer, Dmitri kept talking. "Where is your son? Why don't you call him out here? Maybe he saw something in the woods."

"Leave him out of this," Ruth cried. "He doesn't know anything."

"I'd like to see that for myself," Dmitri said. "Call him out here."

Ruth was just about to refuse again, when Dmitri pulled out a gun and set it down on the table. Not knowing what else to do, Ruth called out for Junior.

"He's just a boy," she explained, as Junior stepped out of his bedroom.

Once he was in the room with them, Dmitri sent Victor to check out the rest of the small house. Neal, who had been able to hear every word from his hiding space, quietly closed the trapdoor, and kept as still as possible. He could hear Victor rummaging around in the room beneath him, but luckily the man didn't find the trapdoor. Neal let out a sigh of relief when he heard Victor leave the room and rejoin the others in the living room. Lifting the trapdoor again, he listened closely to what was being said.

"No sign of anyone else, boss," Victor said.

"Interesting. That still doesn't explain the presence of three glasses at the table," Dmitri said. "Or the fact that there seems to be blood on that blanket on the sofa."

Turning to Junior, who was standing slightly behind his small mother, Dmitri continued his questioning. "What about you, boy? Have you seen anyone wandering around in the woods out there?"

"Mama?" Junior obviously didn't know what to do.

"I told you, he didn't see anyone, either," Ruth told Dmitri.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to hear it from him," Dmitri said. "Junior? Did you see our friend?"

"Neal's your friend, too?" Junior asked innocently, causing Ruth to groan, Dmitri to laugh, and Neal to wonder how he was going to get himself out of the current situation.

* * *

Peter's heart was beating frantically and he found himself breathing so fast that he was actually feeling short of breath. Not being able to reach Neal on the phone was causing what seemed to be an acute panic attack, and he was doing everything he could to calm himself down.

By his timing, they were still about fifteen minutes away. Diana had repeatedly called for backup from the local law enforcement, but they were still unavailable, having been called away to deal with something else. It seemed that they were the only rescue team Neal was going to get, so he repeatedly urged Jones to drive faster.

Jones was driving as fast as he could.

* * *

Neal could tell the exact moment that the situation became too dangerous. Once Junior had confirmed that they had indeed seen Neal, Dmitri upped his interrogation. The previous questions had been delivered in a rather friendly tone, but now he was demanding answers. When they weren't forthcoming enough for him, Neal heard the threats begin.

Without another thought, he opened the trapdoor and quietly made his way down to the floor. Peering around the corner, he saw that Victor was standing over by Junior and that Dmitri was facing the mother and son, his gun pointed in their general direction. Luckily, Victor's gun was nowhere to be seen at the moment.

Just as he was about to make his move, Ruth looked up and saw him. Neal gave her a look that immediately had her looking away from him, and much to his surprise, Victor and Dmitri were none the wiser. Neal's greatest fear was that Junior would look up and see him, but that didn't happen. Instead, Neal was able to make his move, completely surprising both Dmitri and Victor.

Before either man could do anything, Neal had quickly appropriated his step-father's gun, taking it out of his hand in the blink of an eye. Even as he was grabbing the gun, Victor was reaching for his own, bringing it up and aiming it directly at Neal. Neal wasted no time in taking Victor down…. One bullet straight through the heart.

Once that was done, he stepped in front of Ruth and Junior and kept his gun pointed at Dmitri.

"Ruth, I need you to go into your bedroom and call the last number dialed on your phone and ask for Peter. Tell him what's going on, okay? Tell him to hurry. Junior, go with your mother, okay? Take care of her for me."

Ruth looked like she didn't want to leave, but her desire to get her son out of the room trumped her desire to help Neal. Seconds later, they both left the room and Neal could hear her trying to calm her son down. He hoped that she was able to get through to Peter.

Eventually, it was just him and Dmitri left in the room. Neal was surprised to see that, despite the fact that he felt like he was trembling all over, his hands were rock steady. The gun pointed at Dmitri was steady and his aim was true. Only Neal's self-control was keeping him from pulling the trigger and ending the nightmare, once and for all.

"It's over, Dmitri," Neal said tiredly.

"You're wrong, boy," Dmitri answered. "It won't be over until I get what I want."

"That's not going to happen. I'm through doing _anything_ for you, Dmitri. It's over."

"Keep telling yourself that, Danny-boy."

"It's Neal," Neal answered calmly. "Danny doesn't exist anymore."

"Keep telling yourself that, too."

"I mean it," Neal said. "I'm not that boy anymore. I'm not afraid of you, Dmitri. You can't bully me or scare me anymore. You have no hold over me. You've failed, Dmitri. Again."

Neal could tell that Dmitri was growing angrier by the second. He knew he should stop baiting the man, but he couldn't. All of his anger and fury towards the man chose that moment to show itself and he couldn't bring himself to stop.

"You're pathetic," he continued. "Everything you've ever tried to do in your pathetic life has failed in one way or another. You couldn't even keep my mother happy. Why do you think she started drinking so much? Why do you think she started doing drugs?"

"Shut up, boy!" Dmitri yelled, his face growing redder and redder.

"My name is Neal! Not boy! Not Danny! It's Neal! Obviously, you're too stupid to understand that, Dmitri. No wonder you've always been such a failure."

Neal had just barely finished his sentence when Dmitri suddenly lunged forward, knocking the gun out of Neal's hand. Neal dove down to the floor, searching desperately for the gun. Dmitri seemed to be more intent on attacking his step-son in any way he could. Blow after blow landed on Neal's already beaten and bruised body, but he barely felt them. Even though Dmitri had about fifty pounds on Neal, Neal was able to move around the floor in his search for the gun.

Just as Neal's fingers grazed the gun, Dmitri landed a particularly harsh punch to the side of his head, causing his vision to suddenly double. He also felt a surge of nausea rush through him and it took everything he had to not lose the contents of his stomach.

After a few seconds, in which Dmitri continued to land punches wherever he could, Neal resumed his frantic search for the gun. To his dismay, the moment his fingers closed around the gun, he felt Dmitri's fingers close around it as well. With both of them doing whatever they could to gain control of the gun, Neal fought harder than he had ever fought in his life.

* * *

Peter answered the phone before the first ring had even ended. "Neal! Are you okay? What happened?"

"I need to speak with Peter Burke," a frantic voice answered instead.

"This is Peter Burke. Where's Neal?"

"He needs your help," the lady answered frantically. "Right now!"

"We're almost there," Peter said. "We're just a few minutes away. What's going on?"

Peter listened as the woman explained what had happened and what was currently going on. He could hear some sort of a scuffle going on in the background and he knew that his partner was fighting for his life. Trying to reassure the woman that they were almost there, Peter quickly turned his attention to Jones.

"Jones, I need to be there NOW!"

"Less than a minute away, Peter," Jones answered. "It's right up here on the left."

Peter reassured Ruth that they were almost there again and then questioned her about how many men were there. He was surprised to hear that Neal had taken out Victor and was even more surprised to hear that there was apparently only one man on the outside. Ruth, of course, couldn't be sure, but that was all that she had seen.

Thirty seconds later, Jones pulled the vehicle in front of the house. Without waiting for the Suburban to come to a complete stop, Peter jumped out, followed closely by Diana, Jones, and two other agents.

Not wasting any time, and knowing that his agents would take care of anyone lingering outside, Peter flew through the front door just in time to hear a gunshot echoing throughout the small room.

* * *

Author's note: On my goodness, please don't hate me for the evil cliffhanger. I really wanted to end on a different note, but it is now 4:30 in the morning and I really need to go to bed. I am going to try my hardest to finish this story on Thursday, so hang in there just a few more days.

I hope everything makes sense in this chapter, and I hope you don't mind a few more original characters. Thank you all for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts.


	44. Are We In The Clear Yet?

What He Does Best

Chapter 44

* * *

Looking frantically around the room, Peter's eyes finally landed on the strange shape of Neal and Dmitri tangled together. At first look, he couldn't tell that either one of them had been injured by the gunshot, but he suddenly honed in on the look of pain on his partner's face. Stepping forward with his own gun pointing in the general direction of the two men, Peter focused more intently on Neal. He didn't immediately see any blood, but the look on Neal's face convinced him that the man had been injured.

With the two men still struggling over the possession of the gun, Peter was unable to get a clean shot off. Instead, he stepped a little closer, identified himself, and yelled at Dmitri to cease and desist. The man didn't listen, of course. Instead, he suddenly wrenched his arm away from Neal and brought his gun up to Peter. Peter took a step backward, but didn't lower his gun.

"Dmitri, it's over!" he yelled. "My agents are right outside, so you have nowhere else to go. Drop the gun!"

Dmitri kept the gun pointed at Peter while he warily looked around the room. Neal, who had seemingly collapsed to the ground once Dmitri wasn't holding him up any longer, struggled to get up. Peter could now see a small patch of blood on the man's right thigh, but much to his relief, it didn't look like it was bleeding too badly.

"Drop the gun, Dmitri," Peter repeated.

In what could only be described as a last ditch effort to get himself out of a hopeless situation, Dmitri instead fired his gun. Fortunately, Peter was able to tell by the man's body language that he was about to pull the trigger and he dove off to the right. Even with his quick reflexive action, he felt the bullet whiz by his face.

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, so by the time Peter hit the ground, he watched in horror as Neal flung himself at Dmitri once again. This time, however, everything seemed to be over before it even started. Neal knocked Dmitri to the ground and struggled to loosen the gun from the man's grip. Dmitri seemed to have a concrete hold on the gun, leading the two of them to once again fight to gain control. Somehow, Neal ended up with his back on the floor, while Dmitri's body was on top in the scuffle.

Before Peter could even bring his gun back up, another shot rang out in the small room. Peter watched in horror as both men stopped moving. The seconds that passed seemed like hours to him as he pulled himself up and tried to get over to where his partner was.

"Neal!" he cried. "Neal, are you okay?"

Finally arriving at the side of the two men, Peter suddenly realized that Dmitri's body was limp and unmoving. As the meaning of this sunk into his shocked brain, he also realized that Neal was struggling to get out from underneath the weight of the much larger man. Peter wasted no time in pulling Dmitri's bulk off of his partner and making sure that the man wasn't going anywhere.

"Neal, are you okay?" he asked again, as he looked his friend over from head to toe.

"Dmitri!" Neal yelled. "Is he dead?"

"He's dead, buddy," Peter answered. "He'll never bother you again."

"Are you sure? Are you sure he's dead?" Neal asked as he pulled himself to his knees and slowly crawled over to his step-father. Peter watched as the young man knelt over the body and searched for a pulse, or for any signs of life at all.

"He's dead, Neal. The bullet hit him right in the heart."

Neal sat back on the floor and stared blankly at the body of the man he had grown to hate so much. Peter could tell that the man was in shock. Calling out to the rest of his team, he breathed a sigh of relief when Diana called back to him from the back of the house.

"All clear back here, Boss," she called. "And Jones found the last subject outside, so the site is secure."

"Ruth! Junior!" Neal suddenly yelled as he tried to get up off the floor. Unfortunately, his legs wouldn't support him, so he immediately collapsed back to the floor. "Are they okay?" he asked desperately.

"We're okay, Neal," Ruth's voice called from the back. "Agent Barrigan made sure of that."

Neal tried to get up again, but was stopped by Peter. "Neal, stay down. You're hurt."

"I'm fine, Peter," Neal explained. "I need to talk to Ruth."

"You're not fine, kid," Peter growled. "You've been shot….. Twice. And it looks like someone used you as a punching bag. Not to mention the fact that you've lost weight and you're more than likely in shock. Just sit there, okay? The ambulance should be here soon."

"I don't need an ambulance," Neal started, but Peter quickly cut him off.

"That's not up for debate, Caffrey. You _do_ need an ambulance and you're going to sit here until it arrives."

Neal looked like he might argue, but seeing the look on Peter's face made him quickly change his mind. Instead, he sat patiently while Peter left to find some towels and washcloths to stop the bleeding and clean him up just a little. To his surprise, when Peter came back, Ruth was following close behind.

"Neal!" she cried when she saw the state the young man was in. "Oh, dear…..are you okay?"

"I'm okay," Neal reassured her. "Ruth, I'm really sorry to bring all of this into your home."

"Nonsense," she answered as she knelt down beside him and started to take care of his wounds. "_You_ didn't bring any of this here, Neal. That man right there is the only one responsible for what happened here tonight."

"But, you could have been hurt, Ruth. Junior could have been hurt. And he's probably terrified now."

"Don't you worry about us, Neal. Junior and I have been through much worse than this. And he's stronger than you think."

"I don't doubt that for a single minute," Neal answered with a small smile. "I'm still sorry, though."

Minutes later, the ambulance arrived and Peter and Ruth stepped aside to let the medics take care of Neal. Once they assessed his injuries, they told Peter that he was stable, but that they would need to take him to the hospital. Neal, of course, denied the need to go to the hospital, but Peter insisted.

Before they loaded him into the ambulance, Ruth brought Junior outside to say goodbye to Neal. Neal had only known the two of them for a short time, but he felt so close to them that it hurt to say goodbye.

"Hey, Junior…. Take care of your mother, okay?" Neal said when Junior stepped up to the stretcher.

"I will, Neal, I promise."

"I'm sorry we didn't get to finish our game," Neal said with a smile. "Thanks for teaching me how to play."

"You're welcome, Neal. We can finish it when you come back, okay?"

Neal didn't have the heart to tell the young man that he wouldn't be coming back anytime soon, but he tried to be honest with him. "Junior, I'm not sure when I'll be back, but whenever it is, we'll definitely finish our game, okay?"

"Okay, Neal. Thank you for being my friend," Junior said with a huge smile. "I like having a friend."

Neal gave Junior a smile that was just as big. "Thank you for letting me be your friend, Junior."

Ruth stepped up to the stretcher next and gave Neal a gentle hug. "Take care of yourself, Neal," she whispered. "And stay out of trouble."

"I'll try," Neal answered, only to be interrupted by Peter laughing.

"He'll try, but it won't work," Peter laughed. "Trouble seems to be his constant companion, but I'll do my best to keep the trouble to a minimum."

"I think you have your work cut out for you, Agent Burke," Ruth laughed. "He has a mischievous streak a mile long, I'm sure."

"You have no idea," Peter said.

"Hey, in case you two forgot, I'm right here…. Listening to everything you're saying."

Ruth and Peter both laughed at the look of indignation on Neal's pale face.

"We didn't forget," Peter answered.

* * *

Once Neal was on his way to the hospital, Peter stayed at the crime scene for a while, going over everything that had just happened. After an hour, he was anxious to see how his partner was doing, so he hitched a ride to the hospital with the local law enforcement that had finally shown up.

Once at the hospital, he made his way into the emergency room and quickly inquired about his partner. A few minutes later, he was escorted back into the triage area where Neal was sitting up on a gurney, surrounded by several staff members.

"Peter!" he exclaimed the moment he saw his partner. "What are you doing here?"

Peter groaned at the sight before him. Neal had a goofy grin on his face and his speech was slurred significantly. Peter could tell that the young man had been given some good pain medication.

"Agent Peter Burke?" one of the young ladies surrounding Neal's bed asked. "Mr. Caffrey told us that you would be here soon. I'm Dr. Meyers and I'm the one treating him here in the emergency room."

"How is he?" Peter asked anxiously.

"He's fine," Dr. Meyers answered immediately. "Feeling no pain at the moment, I believe."

"I told you I was fine, Peter," Neal said in a sing-song voice. "You never believe me."

Peter ignored his obviously drugged partner. "What about his injuries? He was shot in the leg."

"Yes, but fortunately it was just a graze. The wound required a few stitches and may be a bit sore for a while, but that's all. The wound on his side looks like it may be infected, so he'll need to take some antibiotics for the next few weeks. We cleaned and stitched that one, as well. He was pretty dehydrated, so we've given him several liters of IV fluids, as well as some IV antibiotics to start him off. His labs are all relatively normal, other than showing signs of dehydration and some malnutrition. He'll need to follow-up with a doctor once he gets home, but there is no reason that he won't make a full recovery. Overall, he's looking pretty good."

"Do you hear that, Peter?" Neal slurred. "I'm looking good! That's what the doctor said."

"I heard her, Neal," Peter answered.

"Hey, Doc….Can I get some more of that stuff you gave me?"

"Are you still hurting, Mr. Caffrey?" Dr. Meyers quickly asked.

"Nope!" Neal answered. "But I think Peter's going to start lecturing me soon, so I could really use some."

Everyone around Neal, except Peter, laughed at his words.

"What makes you think he's going to lecture you?" one of the nurses asked.

"Because that's what he does," Neal whined, earning himself several sympathetic looks from the young ladies around him. "I mess up, he lectures."

"He's in no shape to be lectured right now, Agent Burke," one of the older nurses said with a frown. "The poor boy has been through a lot."

"Yeah," Neal added with a full-force Caffrey pout. "I've been through a lot, Peter."

"I know you have," Peter admitted. "That's why I'm going to hold off on the lecture until we get home. Besides, I think Elizabeth might want to be a part of that."

At those words, Neal groaned, causing everyone to laugh. "On second thought, I think I'm ready for that lecture now, Peter. There's no need to bring Elizabeth into it."

* * *

Author's note: I know this is way shorter than normal, but my computer crashed about halfway through this and I had to start all over. I think it's time for a new computer. Anyway, I really wanted to give you all something, so here you go. Our boys are finally back together and everyone's okay. Well, except for Victor and Dmitri, but I don't think any of you actually mind that, right?

The next chapter will be some much needed recovery time for Neal and all the people who love him. I think he deserves a little TLC, so prepare yourself. Of course, I also think he needs a little tough love, so prepare yourself for that, too. It should be a fun read.

Thank you all so much for reading. I can't believe this story is almost over. It's definitely been a labor of love and I have no idea what I'm going to do once it's over. Any ideas?

On a completely unrelated note... The title of this chapter comes from a Taylor Swift song. My daughter just did a pretty amazing cover of it on youtube. I'd love it if you all would give it a listen. It's caelibarnhart


	45. Well And Truly

What He Does Best

Chapter 45

* * *

Peter wasn't having a good night. Not only did he just spend the last several hours tracking down his partner, watching said partner fight for his life, and then watch as that same partner charmed the pants off of every staff member in the small town hospital, but now he was facing the wrath of one very angry Elizabeth Burke.

As he was waiting for Neal to be released from the hospital, he realized that he hadn't yet called Elizabeth to tell her that he had found the young man. In fact, he hadn't even told her where he was going when he left the house. He wasn't really sure which point made her angrier, but he _was_ sure that she was indeed angrier than he had ever known her to be.

By the time he got off the phone with her, he was well and truly sorry for his actions. He was also well and truly afraid to go home, knowing that his wife wasn't one to let something like that go easily. He knew that he was in for another session of her telling him just what she thought of his actions once he got home. The only saving point was knowing that Neal would be right there with him.

Neal hadn't been happy to hear the doctor say that he needed to have someone keep an eye on him for a few days. Peter knew that it wasn't because he didn't like staying at the Burke's house, but because he, too, was afraid of the beautiful, but angry brunette that was waiting for them.

Once Neal was completely released from the hospital, they waited for Diana to show up. Rather than taking Neal home in the van, which was sure to be a bumpy ride, Peter asked Diana to arrange for another ride. Fortunately, one of the deputies on duty had connections at the local car rental place, so half an hour later she pulled up in front of the hospital in a rented sedan.

Peter helped a rather slow-moving Neal into the back seat, helping him to arrange himself as comfortably as he could before climbing into the front seat. Neal was still a little drugged from the pain medication he had been given, but Peter could tell it was starting to wear off by the low moans he heard every time they hit a bump in the road.

Once Neal had fallen asleep, Diana and Peter went over everything that had happened. Their statements to the FBI would be taken the next morning, but there were still a few unanswered questions. The most important question was, of course, what exactly Dmitri wanted with Neal. They knew that the man was desperate for money and they knew that Neal _supposedly_ had diamonds that "belonged" to Dmitri, but why did Dmitri need the money so badly, in the first place? With Dmitri dead, Peter doubted that whoever he owed money to would ever be found, a thought that only made him worry for his partner even more. _What if someone else came after Neal? What if this wasn't really over?_

Hearing the gentle snoring of his partner in the back seat, Peter decided to worry about that on another day. For now, he wanted to rest in the fact that Neal was finally safe.

* * *

Several hours later, they pulled up in front of the Peter's house. Neal was still sleeping in the back seat and Peter actually regretted having to wake him up. After calling his name several times without results, Peter nudged Neal's leg a few times. Eventually, the young man woke up with a groan and looked around in confusion.

"Hey, kid," Peter said. "You need to wake up."

"Go away, Peter," Neal mumbled.

"C'mon, Neal. There's no way I'm carrying you into the house."

"Just take me home, Peter. I want to sleep in my own bed."

"Not going to happen, kid. The doc said you need someone to watch over you for a few days, so here we are."

"I can take care of myself," Neal whined. "I don't wanna go in."

"Why not? You're not afraid to face Elizabeth, are you?" Peter asked.

"She's gonna kill me, Peter. You have to protect me!"

Peter couldn't help but laugh at his partner's predicament, even though he was there right along with him. But, anything that had Neal Caffrey talking in slang had to be worth watching.

"I'll protect you, Neal, I promise. Besides, she's mad at me, too."

Neal looked up at Peter in surprise. "Why is she mad at _you_? What did _you_ do, Peter?"

"Think about, partner. What's the one thing that makes Elizabeth really mad?"

Peter almost laughed at the look that came over Neal's face as he thought about that question. Seconds later, he looked up at Peter.

"Please tell me that you weren't stupid enough to leave without telling her where you were going…."

"Hey," Peter said indignantly. "I was focused on getting you out of the trouble you got yourself into. I wasn't thinking straight."

Neal looked undeniably guilty. "I had to do it, Peter."

"We're not going to get into that right now, Neal. It's late and I really want to go to bed."

"Me, too, Caffrey, so get out of the car or I'll carry you into the house myself," Diana suddenly said from the front seat.

Peter laughed out loud at how fast Neal tried to get himself out of the car.

* * *

Once inside the house, both men were immediately accosted by Elizabeth and Satchmo. Peter and Neal both found themselves in what could only be described as a group hug, while Satchmo yipped and barked as he ran around them. Eventually, Neal let out a small groan, most likely from the way that Elizabeth was squeezing both of them so tightly.

"Oh, Neal! I'm so sorry! Peter, he needs to sit down!"

Peter moved out of the way so Elizabeth could lead Neal over to the sofa. He watched as Elizabeth settled the young man onto the couch and covered him with a blanket. He was just about to sit down, too, when Elizabeth interrupted him.

"What are you doing?" she asked quickly. "Don't just stand there, Peter Burke! Go and get Neal some water."

Peter glared at Neal, who was obviously soaking up all the attention sent his way by Elizabeth, before turning and walking into the kitchen. When he returned, he was surprised to see his wife bending over Neal, checking out his various wounds. When Peter set the water down on the coffee table, she looked up at him with concern.

"Are you sure the doctor said that these wounds are okay? The one on his side looks awful!"

"Dr. Meyers said that one was slightly infected, El. That's why she sent us home with antibiotics."

"And is he taking them?" she asked. "He needs to take them!"

"He did, El. And he will. That's why I brought him home with me for the next few days. So we can make sure he takes care of himself."

"A few days isn't long enough," Elizabeth stated matter-of-factly. "He's going to have to stay here indefinitely!"

Neal, who had up until then been sitting back and listening to what was going on, suddenly sat up. "Hey! I can take care of myself!" he said weakly and unconvincingly.

"This isn't up for debate, Neal Caffrey! You're staying here until I decide that you're ready to go home. Is that clear?"

Neal burrowed further into the sofa and pulled the blanket up to his chin. "Elizabeth….." he started.

"I mean it, Neal! You're staying here, so there's no sense in arguing."

When Neal didn't say anything else, Elizabeth turned back to Peter. "Okay, it's almost three o'clock in the morning, so we all need to go to bed. Peter, help Neal up to his room, while I get his medications ready. We'll resume this conversation in the morning, after we've all had a chance to get some much needed rest."

Neal and Peter knew better than to argue with Elizabeth when she was in the type of mood she was in. They both knew that it was better to just go along with whatever she was saying and pray that a good night's sleep would improve her mood. Neither one of them actually thought that that would happen, though.

It took Peter and Neal several minutes to get up the stairs and into the bedroom. Neal, who was still wearing a pair of scrubs the hospital had given him, waited for Peter to pull back the blanket on the bed before slowly climbing in. After several attempts to make himself comfortable, he finally rested his head back on the pillow. Less than a minute later, Elizabeth walked through the door with a tray in her hands. Setting it down on the bedside table, she turned back to Neal.

"Here you go, Neal. I made you some oatmeal. And here are your pills."

"I'm not hungry, Elizabeth," Neal said sleepily.

"Regardless, you need to eat something whenever you take your medicine, sweetie."

Neal sat up slightly and took the bowl of oatmeal from Elizabeth. After taking several bites of the oatmeal, he took the medicine from her, as well. Seconds later, he lay his head back onto the pillow and closed his eyes tiredly.

Elizabeth was just about to tell him to eat some more oatmeal, but she noticed that he had already fallen asleep. Instead, she sat down on the bed next to him and stared at him.

"I can't believe you found him, Peter. I thought we had lost him forever."

Peter didn't want to admit that he had felt the same way, so he said the only other thing he could.

"Finding him is what I do best, El? Remember?"

* * *

Author's note: I know, I know…..This one is really short, but I'm hoping that you all would rather have something than nothing. If not, I just have to say that I'm working on the rest of it, so it should be up soon. Thanks so much for reading.


	46. Full Circle

What He Does Best

Chapter 46

* * *

Neal woke up in a complete panic, his eyes darting around the dark room in an attempt to figure out where he was. In his panicked state, he almost missed the sound of a voice calling for him to calm down. It took him several seconds to finally home in on the words that were being said and to realize that Peter was the one speaking them.

"Neal….Neal….it's okay, kid. Everything's okay. You're home."

Neal still looked around the room frantically, as if he thought some sort of trick was being played on him. His breaths were erratic and fast, his heart beat irregular and wild. Peter laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, surprised to feel the not-so-faint trembling underneath it.

"Hey, buddy….it's okay. I'm right here and you're okay."

Eventually, Neal started to settle down, much to Peter's relief. Giving the young man a few seconds to pull himself together, Peter sat back down in the chair next to the bed. Neal pulled himself to the edge of the bed and rested his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry, Peter," he said quietly. "I thought I was…..I didn't know….I forgot I was staying here with you."

Peter didn't say anything right away. Instead, he let Neal catch his breath and slow his pounding heart down a little. In due time, Neal sat up straighter on the bed and looked at his partner.

"What time is it?"

"Almost six o'clock," Peter answered. "You've only been asleep for a few hours."

Neal noticed the chair that Peter was now sitting in and the blanket that had fallen to the floor. "Were you sleeping in that chair?" he asked awkwardly.

"Well, I don't know if you can call it sleeping, but I was sure trying."

"I don't need a babysitter, Peter. I can take care of myself. You should be resting. You just had a heart attack, remember?"

"I know you don't need a babysitter," Peter answered. "But you weren't sleeping well, so I thought I'd stay close by, just in case you needed something. And I _know _I had a heart attack, Caffrey. Elizabeth is constantly reminding me, so I don't need you to do it, too."

"Okay, okay!" Neal said with a laugh. "I can tell that's a sore subject for you."

"Don't worry, kid. I'm sure Elizabeth will be constantly reminding you of your injuries, too. That is, when she's not lecturing you on the multitude of mistakes you've made in the recent weeks. I have a feeling you're going to be one very sorry little boy when she's done with you."

Neal groaned as he dropped his head back into his hands. "Just kill me now," he groaned. "That will be much more merciful, I'm sure."

"What will be more merciful?" Elizabeth asked as she walked through the door. "And why are the two of you awake already? It's only been a few hours since you went to bed."

"Neal had a bad dream," Peter immediately offered.

"No, I didn't," Neal answered petulantly, but it was too late. Elizabeth was already halfway across the room with a determined look on her face.

"Oh, you poor baby," she said when she finally got to his bed. Sitting down next to him, she immediately started rubbing his shoulders. "Do you want to talk about it, sweetie?" she asked in her gentlest voice.

"No, it's okay, Elizabeth," Neal answered.

"Do you want me to make you some of that tea you like so much? The calming Honey Vanilla Bliss?"

Neal looked like he might take her up on the offer until he noticed the smirk on Peter's face. "I'm fine, Elizabeth," he finally said. "I think I'll just try to go back to sleep."

Peter couldn't help but laugh at the look on Neal's face as Elizabeth wasted no time in tucking him back into bed. He could only describe it as a cross between embarrassment and contentment, with a heavier emphasis on the contentment end. He knew that the young man wasn't used to having someone to fuss over him, and that the poor kid yearned for just that. _Not that Neal would ever admit it, of course._

Once Neal was well and truly tucked into his bed, Elizabeth placed a kiss on his forehead and brushed back his curly locks. "Goodnight, sweetie," she whispered. "We're right down the hall, if you need us."

Neal mumbled something that sounded like "I'll be fine," but Peter couldn't be sure. It sometimes infuriated him that that seemed to be the go-to answer for the young man and Peter resolved to cure him of that, once and for all. Later, of course. Right then, all he wanted to do was get a few more hours of sleep himself.

Turning out the light, he turned back to his partner once more, not surprised to see that Neal was already snoring softly. "Goodnight, kid," he said quietly. "You'd better be here when I wake up in a few hours."

* * *

The next time Neal woke up, he was only slightly disoriented to where he was, but within seconds he recognized the guest bedroom in the Burke house that he was beginning to think of as his own. He lay in bed for several minutes, thinking about everything that had happened in the last few months. He was surprised to find that he wasn't as relieved as he thought he would be with Dmitri finally out of the picture. In fact, there was the tiniest part of him that felt somewhat guilty for how things had played out. He knew that made no sense, whatsoever, but he couldn't help what he felt.

Thinking about it, he realized that maybe some of the guilt he was feeling was just due to the fact that he had brought Dmitri's evil into the simple lives of Ruth and Junior. He would have never forgiven himself if something had happened to the two of them. For a mother and son to take an admittedly suspicious looking, beaten and bruised man, and bring him into their home, without knowing what they were getting themselves into, was hard for Neal to comprehend. In this day and age, most people wouldn't have dared to do much more than call the police. Some would have just left him there in the woods to succumb to the elements or to be ravaged by monsters, human or otherwise.

But, Ruth and Junior were too kind-hearted for that. Neal hoped that she didn't regret her decision to get involved, now that everything was over. He planned on contacting her within the next few days to thank her again for her help. He only hoped that she accepted his appreciation.

As he lay in the bed, he listened to the still quietness of the house. A few times, he thought he heard faint snores coming from down the hall, but he couldn't be completely sure without getting up and opening his door. And he truly wasn't ready to do that. The warmth of the bed and the weight of the down comforter held him prisoner and eventually he fell back to sleep.

* * *

Elizabeth woke up to the sound of intense snoring coming from the other side of the bed. Normally, she would give her husband a hard nudge in the side, prompting him to roll over into a different position that would _hopefully_ eliminate the snoring. Instead, she listened to the snoring as if it was the sound of a beautiful symphony.

Peter's heart attack had her completely reevaluating everything that was important to her. She had always known, deep down, that her husband was vulnerable to the same things as everyone else in the world, but she honestly felt like he was too strong to be taken down by anything less powerful than a world-ending event. Afterwards, she realized that a heart attack could indeed _be_ a world-ending event, at least in the grand scheme of thinking that it could have ended her world as she knew it.

So, to be next to her husband, listening to his monstrous snores, was a true blessing. One that she would never take for granted again.

With that being said, she felt a sudden surge of anger directed at the man in the bed next to her. When she had arrived home the evening before to find him gone, she had panicked. Looking around the whole house for a note she was sure he had left, but he in fact hadn't, she felt her anxiety increase. Of course, she had immediately tried to call him, but he never answered his phone. Eventually, she was able to contact Diana, who informed her that they were on their way to pick up Neal.

Elizabeth was immediately relieved that her husband was okay and that they had found Neal, but as she sat waiting to hear from _someone_, her relief quickly morphed into anger. At both men.

The hours she spent waiting to hear from Peter, she rehashed over and over again the events of the last few months, especially the events that had occurred since Neal decided to take matters into his own hands. As she thought about it all- Neal intentionally sabotaging the drop, which led to him delivering himself directly into Dmitri's hands; Peter going off book, without backup, when they were chasing Neal; and Peter leaving the house without leaving her some kind of message- she found herself becoming angrier and angrier.

Now, as she waited for Peter and Neal to wake up, she started to feel that righteous anger return. In fact, it was all she could do not to wake both of them up and drag them downstairs by their ears.

* * *

Neal wasn't sure how much longer he had slept, but when he woke up, he found Elizabeth sitting in the chair next to his bed. He was a little embarrassed to know that she had been watching him sleep, but he shook it off and greeted her with a smile.

"Good morning, Elizabeth," he said perhaps a little too joyfully.

"Good afternoon, you mean," Elizabeth answered. "It's almost two o'clock."

Neal quickly sat up, causing himself to cry out in pain and swoon just a little. Changing his mind, he collapsed back against the pillow and looked pitifully up at Elizabeth, who was looking at him in concern.

"That hurt," he groaned.

"Oh, sweetie…..What were you thinking?!"

"I don't think I _was_ thinking."

"Obviously," she said with a laugh. "Neal, you're going to have to take things slow for a few days. Your body has been through a lot."

"I know," Neal admitted. "It's just really hard for me to take things slow, I guess."

"That's an understatement," she said with another laugh. "Neal Caffrey and "taking things slow" have probably never been used in the same sentence before."

Neal laughed a little at that, too, but he obviously knew the truth of it. Looking up at Elizabeth, he blushed. "I'm sorry I slept so late."

"Nonsense," she stated firmly. "You obviously needed to sleep, sweetie. And Peter has only been up for about an hour. He had to go in to the office to give his statement and he wanted me to tell you that an agent will be by at three o'clock to take yours."

"That sounds like fun," Neal groaned.

"Why don't you get up and get cleaned up a little. Peter said you're not to take a shower just yet, so it looks like you'll just have to wash up. I could help you wash your hair, if you want me to."

"Thanks, Elizabeth. That would be great."

"Okay, well…..June is going to be bringing some of your things over this evening, but in the meantime, I gathered up some of Peter's old stuff. I'm sure you'll want to get out of those scrubs. And your toothbrush is still up in the cabinet, just where you left it last time."

Elizabeth helped Neal out of the bed and watched as he slowly made his way into the bathroom. As soon as the door shut, she remembered something.

"Neal, I'm going to go downstairs and fix you something to eat. When you're ready to come downstairs, let me know. I don't want you walking down the stairs by yourself."

She heard Neal answer her, but couldn't make out exactly what she said, thanks to the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. Without another thought, though, she turned and made her way downstairs.

* * *

Neal took his time getting cleaned up and dressed. He really wasn't looking forward to having to give his statement to some unknown agent. He had just about made up his mind that he would demand that he be allowed to give his statement to Peter, when he abruptly changed his mind. There were things that he didn't want to have to say in front of his partner. Even though he knew that Peter would read his statement at some point, he really didn't feel like he had the strength to tell the man first hand just what Dmitri had done to him.

When he couldn't put it off any longer, Neal opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. He knew that Elizabeth had instructed him to call for help down the stairs when he was ready, but he couldn't bring himself to actually do it. It was bad enough that he was dressed in a pair of Peter's old sweats and a Yankees t-shirt, but adding to that the fact that his legs felt like they were barely holding him up and his arms felt like jello, he decided that he needed to prove to himself that he was still a man.

Three stair steps into it and he knew he was in trouble. By the time he was halfway down the stairs, he was holding on to the stair rail with every ounce of his strength. To his unfortunate dismay, with only two stairs left, his legs gave out and he tumbled to the floor.

Within seconds, Elizabeth was running to his side, followed by a burly agent he had seen around the FBI building a few times.

"Neal!" Elizabeth cried as she knelt down on the floor next to him. "Oh my God! Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?"

Neal wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement, but chose wisely not to. Instead, he decided to just go with his normal response. "I'm fine, Elizabeth," he answered in a very unconvincing tone.

"What on earth were you doing? I told you to call for me when you were ready to come downstairs."

"Elizabeth, I'm a grown man," Neal said, knowing immediately that he should have chosen a different tactic.

"Neal George Caffrey! Don't you give me that "I'm a grown man" nonsense! You're injured and you're not strong enough to take those stairs by yourself."

"Obviously…" the burly agent added with a laugh. He quickly stopped laughing, though, once he saw the look that Elizabeth was giving him.

"Agent Lockwood, would you please help me get him off the floor?"

"Of course, ma'am," Agent Lockwood answered with a blush.

Neal allowed Elizabeth and the agent to help him to his feet, wincing at what he could tell would be a few new bruises from the fall. Once he was on his feet, he made his way over slowly to the sofa and sat down gingerly. Agent Lockwood sat down in a chair across from him and opened up a notebook.

"Oh, no you don't…." Elizabeth said, immediately grabbing the notebook out of the agent's hand. "He needs to eat something and take his medication before you start that."

Neal hated the way her words made him feel like a little boy, but he was thankful, nonetheless. If he was being honest, he was both hungry and in pain, so he appreciated Elizabeth's concern.

Agent Lockwood sat back in the chair, looking just as embarrassed as Neal knew he himself looked. Neal waited until Elizabeth went into the kitchen before he said anything.

"Sorry about that. She gets a little overprotective sometimes."

"A _little_ overprotective?" Agent Lockwood asked incredulously. "I've heard stories of what a spitfire Agent Burke's wife is, but I really didn't expect _that._ She's so sweet looking on the outside."

"She's pretty amazing, actually," Neal answered. "You just have to know how to handle her."

"I don't think she's the type of woman you "handle," Caffrey," Agent Lockwood said seriously.

"Of course, she is," Neal countered. "You just have to know what makes her tick."

"And what exactly is it that makes me tick, Neal," Elizabeth said from the doorway in a deadly voice.

"E-Elizabeth!" Neal stuttered. "H-how long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to hear that you think you can "handle" me, young man."

"I didn't meant it like that," Neal tried desperately to explain.

"Trust me, Neal Caffrey. You and I are going to be having a very long talk about just what you meant by that. But, right now I want you to eat and take your medicine, like the good little boy it seems so hard for you to be."

Elizabeth noticed the look of hurt that crossed Neal's face and she instantly felt bad for her words. What she didn't notice was the sly smile and wink that Neal sent over to Agent Lockwood when she was buttering his toast for him.

_Yes, he definitely knew how to handle Elizabeth Burke._

* * *

By the time Peter made it home, Neal and Agent Lockwood were just finishing up. The first thing Peter noticed was how pale and fragile Neal looked. It bothered him a lot to see his partner in such a state, but he wasn't about to say anything to the young man. Neal would not appreciate being told that he looked fragile. In fact, if he ever even got wind of the fact that his partner or anyone else even thought that for one second, he'd probably go dive off of a four-story building or base jump off of a skyscraper.

Peter definitely didn't want to encourage that behavior.

Peter walked upstairs to find his wife, giving the two men time to finish up. Walking into the bedroom, he found Elizabeth curled up on the bed with a cool cloth over her eyes.

"Hey, hon. Are you okay?" Peter asked as he stepped over to his wife's side of the bed.

"I'm fine," Elizabeth answered. "I just seem to have a little headache."

"Oh? You don't get headaches very often. Any idea on what caused it?"

"I know exactly what caused it," Elizabeth answered immediately. "Neal caused it."

Peter laughed out loud, but then felt bad about it. "I'm sorry, El. It's not funny, but I'm sure I know exactly how you feel. Neal's given me plenty of headaches in the past."

"He's just so frustrating," Elizabeth sighed. "And hard-headed!"

"Tell me something I don't already know," Peter laughed.

"Did you know that he tried to run away this afternoon? Or that he fell down the stairs?"

"What?" Peter nearly roared. "What do you mean he tried to run away?"

"Well, not run away, exactly. He tried to talk Agent Lockwood into taking him home. When that didn't work, he took the man's phone, _WITHOUT HIM KNOWING_, and called Mozzie. Luckily, I overheard his conversation and was able to put a halt to that hair-brained scheme. Agent Lockwood wasn't too happy with him, either, for lifting his phone like that."

Peter ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "Why was he wanting to leave so badly? I thought he was okay with staying here with us."

"Oh, it's not that he doesn't want to stay here, Peter. He's mad because I wouldn't let him have any wine with his lunch. I told him he couldn't have any alcohol with the medication he was taking and he got upset. You should have seem him pouting just like a three year old."

Peter could imagine just what that looked like and he couldn't keep from smiling. No matter how frustrating Neal was, his signature pout was something to behold.

"Was it a full-on Caffrey pout? With twinkling blue, puppy dog eyes and everything?"

"Oh, yeah," Elizabeth laughed. "I don't know how anyone stands a chance against that thing."

"Well, it sounds like you did an okay job of standing your ground, El. I didn't see any wine glasses around him."

"Of course, I stood my ground," Elizabeth answered. "I had to do what was best for him, right?"

"Someone has to," Peter agreed. "Since he won't do it himself. Now, tell me about this fall. Did he hurt himself?"

"No," she admitted. "I told him to call when he was ready to come downstairs, so I could help him, but he decided to do it on his own. His legs gave out on the second to last step. I think it hurt his pride, more than anything."

"Damn kid!" Peter growled. "He should have known better."

"He definitely knows better, Peter. He's just too stubborn to ask for help."

"I'll have a talk with him about that," Peter said.

"_We'll_ have a talk with him about that. Two against one, right? That way he can't play one of us against the other. United we stand."

Peter laughed. "Do you think that this is what parent's all over the world have to deal with every single day? Seriously, he's like a teenager…. Impulsive, stubborn, disobedient, and impossible at times."

"And don't forget hormonal, manipulative, and dramatic," Elizabeth added. "And sweet and loving."

"Okay, mama bear, I get it. He's not all bad," Peter laughed.

"He's not bad at all," Elizabeth said, bringing it all full circle. He's just frustrating and hard-headed, like I said."

"Definitely like a teenager," Peter added.

* * *

Author's note: Wow! I really thought I would have finished this three chapters ago, but I guess not. Neal, Peter, and Elizabeth seem to have so much more to say, lol. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. For some reason, I struggled with keeping them all in character, but I guess it turned out all right. The next chapter should be warm and fuzzy, as well as a little bit fun. Stick around and see how the story ends, okay? And thanks for reading.


	47. Me Before You

What He Does Best

Chapter 47

* * *

Once Agent Lockwood left, Neal was looking forward to taking a nap. He wasn't usually a napping kind of man, but after weeks of sleeping with one eye open, he figured he deserved one. Not wanting to take the chance of incurring Elizabeth's wrath by making his way upstairs, and not wanting to actually call for help, he just curled up on the sofa, threw a blanket over his legs, and closed his eyes.

He had no idea how long he had been asleep when he awoke to the sound of Peter and Elizabeth talking quietly somewhere close by. Keeping his eyes closed and his breathing even, he listened to what they were saying, hoping to get an idea of what they were thinking.

"Look at him, Peter. He looks so innocent when he's asleep. And like he doesn't have a care in the world right now."

"What do you expect, El? It's probably all part of a con to make us believe that he's okay, so he can go home faster."

"_Peter! _He's not always pulling a con," Elizabeth admonished. And then, "He looks so young, too, doesn't he?"

Neal tried hard not to move a muscle, but it was proving hard, especially since he could feel both of them staring at him.

"Do you think he's going to be okay, Peter? He's been through so much, and at the hands of someone who was supposed to care for him."

"Silas Dmitri never cared for him, hon."

"I know, but he should have. He was his step-father!"

Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears, leading Peter to pull her into his arms. "My heart breaks when I think of what his childhood must have been like," she cried. "He deserved so much more than that. He deserved a better family."

Peter felt a lump growing in his throat, too, as he held his wife tightly. "I know he did, El. But, he has us now, right? It's up to us to show him what a real family is."

Elizabeth pulled away from her husband, wiping her eyes as she finished pulling herself together. "Well, then that's what we're going to do."

Neal listened as they both left the living room, sounding like they were going into the kitchen. After a few seconds, he slowly opened his eyes and stared in the direction they had gone. He couldn't figure out why everything looked a little blurry, but then he felt the warmth of the tears that were streaming down his face.

* * *

Eventually, Peter came back out of the kitchen and was surprised to find Neal awake and sitting up on the sofa. "Hey, kid, you feel better after your nap?"

"I'm not a kid," Neal grumbled. "And I don't usually take naps, you know."

"Hey," Peter placated. "I'm just messing with you. And there's nothing wrong with taking a nap."

"Sorry, Peter. I'm feeling a little sore, I guess. I think I'll go upstairs and take some pain medicine."

"Whoa!" Peter said. "Hold up, Neal. You're not walking up those stairs by yourself. Elizabeth told me what happened this afternoon, so I'll go up and get them for you."

"I can do it, Peter," Neal argued.

"No, you can't. I'll be right back."

Neal watched as Peter headed up the stairs. A few minutes later, Peter returned and handed Neal the bottle of pills.

"Thanks, Peter," Neal mumbled.

"Anytime, partner. Elizabeth said that dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Are you hungry? I think she's making your favorite."

"I could eat," Neal said with a smile. "Especially since it's my favorite and not yours."

"You don't have to worry about that. Elizabeth only makes my favorite once a year, on my birthday."

"Thank God," Neal laughed.

"Hey! It's not _that_ bad," Peter grumbled.

"Peter. She makes a casserole out of deviled ham for you. It _is_ that bad!"

Peter glared at Neal, who maintained eye contact for about ten seconds before looking away with a smirk. Neal slowly stood up and placed the blanket he was using against the arm of the sofa.

"I think I'll go see if Elizabeth needs some help," he said before leaving the room.

* * *

Dinner was a pretty subdued affair. Neal wouldn't admit it, but he really wasn't feeling well. Peter and Elizabeth tried to carry on a conversation, but just couldn't seem to sustain it without the natural ebullience of Neal Caffrey.

"How are you feeling, Neal?" Elizabeth finally asked. "You've barely touched your dinner."

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth. It's really delicious, I just don't have much of an appetite."

"Maybe you could try to eat a little? You need nourishment in order to heal."

Neal picked up a fork and speared a carrot, bringing it up to his mouth with a small smile. "I really appreciate you making my favorite meal. You didn't have to."

"Of course, I didn't have to, sweetie. I wanted to. Besides, we have to eat, so I might as well make food that we like, right?"

"In that case, maybe we can have pizza tomorrow night," Peter suggested.

"Nice try, Peter Burke, but you know the deal. No more pizza for you. Only healthy foods, remember?"

Peter mumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot to Neal like a profanity, but he couldn't be sure. "What was that, Peter?" he asked. "Did you say something?"

Elizabeth put her fork down and looked up at her husband, who suddenly seemed to find his glass of water very interesting.

"No, I didn't say anything," he said.

"Are you sure? Because I swear I heard you say something. Sounded like duck, maybe? Or buck?"

"I didn't say anything," Peter answered as he leveled a glare at his mischievous partner.

"Okay, then," Neal said with a laugh. "I guess I was wrong."

Peter didn't push it anymore. Instead, he just soaked up the sound of Neal's laughter while it lasted.

* * *

After dinner, Neal returned to the living room, while Peter and Elizabeth cleared the table and cleaned up the kitchen. Once they were done, they joined Neal and settled down to watch whatever Neal was watching, which to Peter's dismay and to Elizabeth's delight, was a culinary show.

During the hour-long show, Peter watched his partner more than the television. He couldn't help but notice the sharp planes on the man's face, made more evident by the recent stress and weight loss. He also noticed the furrows in Neal's forehead, courtesy of the pain he was still feeling despite the pain medication.

Another thing he noticed was how Neal's body gravitated towards Elizabeth, who was sharing the sofa with him. By the end of the show, Neal and Elizabeth were practically leaning on each other. Elizabeth had obviously noticed the way Neal had moved closer to her, but the young man was oblivious. He missed the looks that Peter and Elizabeth exchanged, as well as the soft smiles Elizabeth kept sending his way.

Once the show was over, Peter, who had surreptitiously commandeered the remote control, changed the channel to a sports channel.

"Hey!" Neal exclaimed. "Why did you change the channel?"

"The show was over," Peter explained as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

"But, there was another one coming on after that. Elizabeth and I were going to learn how to make Doro Wat!"

"Door a _what_?" Peter asked.

"Doro Wat!" Neal explained. "Come on, Peter…. It's the national dish of Ethiopia."

"Ethiopia has a national dish?"

"Yes," Neal explained as if he was talking to a five year old. "Ethiopia does have a national dish and it's called Doro Wat. It's a spicy Ethiopian chicken stew and it's delicious."

"Can't you just Google the recipe? Why do you need to watch someone else make it?"

Neal looked at Elizabeth as if to say "He's your husband. Do something."

"Peter, give Neal back the remote," Elizabeth said with a laugh. "He had control of the television first."

"But, it's my television," Peter whined.

"You heard your wife. Hand it over, Peter," Neal said.

"Elizabeth…."

"Peter…." Elizabeth answered with a glare.

Without another word, Peter handed the remote to Neal, who was grinning like he'd just won the lottery. Peter groaned when he realized that he would do almost anything to keep that grin on the kid's face.

* * *

Once Neal and Elizabeth were well versed in the art of making Doro Wat, Elizabeth grabbed the remote from Neal and promptly turned the television off. Peter and Neal both looked at her in surprise, wondering what she was up to.

"Well, I think it's time we all had a talk about recent events, don't you?" she asked expectantly, as she looked at both men.

Neal suddenly sat up straighter, stretched his body, and yawned hugely. "Actually, I'm feeling pretty tired, Elizabeth. I thought I might head off to bed."

Peter smirked at Neal's completely obvious attempt to get out of the current situation. He didn't blame him for trying, but he knew that it was a complete waste of time. When Elizabeth made up her mind about something, there was very little one could do to change it.

"I think you can put that off for a little while, Neal. Don't you?"

"Hey, you're the one that said I needed to listen to my body when it was trying to tell me something, Elizabeth. Right now, it's telling me that I'm tired and that I should go to bed."

"I think that right now, Neal, your brain should be telling you not to make Mama Bear angry," Peter answered before Elizabeth could.

"I think Peter's right," Elizabeth answered in a firm voice. "This talk is long overdue for the both of you and I'm rather tired of having it hanging over my head."

"Fine," Neal said as he settled back into the sofa with a standard 'Neal Caffrey' grin on his face. "What did you want to talk about, Elizabeth?"

"Neal George Caffrey! Don't you think for a single minute that you can just flash those baby blues and give me a charming smile and get out of the trouble you're in!"

"Why am _I_ in trouble, Elizabeth?" Neal asked innocently.

Elizabeth looked at him as if she couldn't believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. "Do you really need me to start at the beginning and list every single thing you should have done differently, Neal? Do you need me to remind you of every single bad choice you've made in the last few months?"

Neal suddenly looked as if he realized just how deep Elizabeth's righteous indignation went. Peter was pretty sure that he had never seen Neal Caffrey look as unsure of himself as he did in that moment. In fact, he had a sudden vision of what Neal would have looked like when he got into trouble as a child. _If he had had a normal upbringing, of course. _

"No, I don't need you to do that. I know I messed up and I know that I'm to blame for everything that happened," Neal admitted miserably.

"You're only to blame for _your_ poor choices, Neal," Elizabeth sighed. "You can't be held responsible for what Dmitri did, sweetie."

"Why not?" Neal asked angrily. "It's my fault that he even came into your lives. I should have done whatever was needed to keep him away from you."

"And how would you have done that, Neal?" Peter asked. "It's not like you were the one that went looking for him. He found you and demanded that you help him. He inserted himself into your life, which inserted him into ours."

"I should have dealt with him on my own!" Neal cried. "I should have done whatever he wanted me to do without involving you, Peter. I should have fought my own battle, instead of dragging you into it!"

"What you should have done was come to me in the first place, Neal. Haven't you learned by now that it's never a good idea to handle these things on your own? I'm on your side, kid. If you had come to me from the very beginning, I could have helped you. Instead, you chose to go behind my back and handle Dmitri by yourself."

"I can take care of myself," Neal muttered.

"The point is that you don't have to take care of yourself anymore, Neal," Elizabeth said sadly. "You're not alone anymore. You have us and we would do anything for you."

"Why?!" Neal asked in a lost voice. "Why would you do that?"

"Because we care about you, sweetie. We love you!"

"Why?" Neal asked again. "All I've ever done is bring trouble to you, Elizabeth. How many times has Peter been put in danger because of my past? How many times have you?"

"That doesn't matter!" Elizabeth tried to explain, but Neal wasn't listening.

"It _does_ matter! Peter had a heart attack, Elizabeth. He could have died. And that's on me!"

"Damn it, Neal! That wasn't your fault!" Peter yelled.

"It _was _my fault, Peter," Neal answered miserably. "You were in that situation because I went off book behind your back. You were there because I did something stupid that put you in a dangerous situation. How is that not my fault?!"

"Heart attacks don't happen overnight, Neal," Elizabeth explained. "Peter had a blocked artery. It wasn't blocked because of something you did, sweetie. The doctor said there are a lot of factors that contributed….. genetics, age, diet, stress….."

"There you go!" Neal cried. "How much stress do I bring into Peter's life on a daily basis?! He was in a stressful situation _because of me!_"

"Neal, if I hadn't been there with you, then it probably would have happened at the office. Or here at home. Or at the gym. My heart attack was not your fault. Come on, kid….you're smart enough to realize that, right?"

Neal didn't look convinced, but he didn't know what else to say. He knew that there was a part of him that would always feel guilty, but he also knew that Elizabeth and Peter were telling the truth.

"You could have died, Peter," he said sadly. "What if Dmitri hadn't let you go? You would have died right there in that room and I would have had to watch. I wouldn't have been able to help you."

"But, you did help me, Neal. You convinced Dmitri to let me go to a hospital. You put your life at risk to save mine. I'm alive because of you."

Neal obviously didn't know what to say to that, so he kept his mouth shut. Elizabeth, on the other hand, had plenty to say.

"That leads me to another thing we need to talk about. If I ever, EVER hear that you put yourself at risk like that again, you'll be answering to me. And I can assure you, Neal Caffrey, that you won't like it one single bit."

"I had to do something, Elizabeth," Neal countered. "If I hadn't, Peter could have died right there in that room. He needed help!"

"And what would have happened if you had died instead, Neal? Do you think Dmitri would have bothered to get help for Peter without you there to help him? Or do you think he would have realized that his whole plan was a bust without you, which probably would have led him to thinking that he had no other option than to get rid of Peter? And how do you think Peter would have handled _your_ death? You know him, Neal. He wouldn't have been able to live with the idea that he couldn't save you. It would have torn him up inside."

"I had to do something, Elizabeth," Neal repeated softly. "It would have torn _me_ up inside if _I _couldn't save _him_."

* * *

Author's note: I am so sorry that this chapter is so late. I really intended to have it posted about a week ago, but life had other plans. I'm also sorry that I keep saying that this story is almost over, but I keep dragging it out. I really do think I'll be done in one or two more chapters, but no promises, lol. There's a part of me that just wants to keep writing on and on and on.

Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. I love hearing your thoughts and ideas, and I can honestly say that your reviews have contributed to the shaping of this story. You guys are amazingly awesome and truly appreciated. I hope you enjoy the chapter.

"It's my fault that Peter was kidnapped again and it's my fault that he had a heart attack and almost died."


	48. Beyond A Shadow Of A Doubt

What He Does Best

Chapter 48

* * *

Elizabeth's heart nearly broke at the pain and desperation she heard in Neal's voice. He hadn't been a part of her life for very long at all, but she liked to think that she knew him in ways that so few people did. Neal's inner circle was extremely small and she knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that Peter was in the direct center of that circle. She knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that Neal would do anything and everything for her husband, stopping at nothing to keep him safe.

She also knew that she couldn't allow him to continue in that regard. Neal needed to truly understand that it wasn't okay for him to put his life in danger, over and over again. He needed to truly understand that he wasn't alone anymore- that he had someone to help him now. That he had multiple someones, in fact. And not only that, but he now had to answer to those multiple someones. There would be no more escaping of consequences. In the future, when he made poor choices, she would make sure that he knew that he had to answer to her first, and the rest later.

Peter, of course, could handle the official consequences, but Elizabeth was determined that she would now be the one to handle Neal Caffrey, in all other matters.

* * *

Neal suddenly felt his exhaustion catch up to him. He wasn't sure if it was because of the way Elizabeth seemed to be studying him so closely, but he felt like his legs couldn't support his weight for a second longer. Stumbling back over to the couch, he plopped himself back down, not caring that he was completely lacking in his normal Caffrey-esque grace.

He was all too aware that both Peter and Elizabeth were staring at him in concern.

"Are you okay, buddy?" Peter asked worriedly.

Neal started to answer, but Peter quickly cut him off. "And don't say that you're fine, Neal. We all know that's not true."

"I'm just tired, Peter," Neal said quietly. "It's been a long couple of months."

"I know it has, Neal. It's been a long couple of months for all of us, but it's over now. Dmitri can't ever hurt you again."

Peter and Elizabeth were both surprised by the strange laugh that escaped Neal.

"Do you really think that I was ever really worried about that, Peter? I never cared if Dmitri hurt me. The only thing I cared about was the fact that he would use you to get to me, that he wouldn't have thought twice about hurting you or anyone else, _just to get to me_. He knew that would have hurt me more than anything else."

"Okay," Peter said. "But, he can't do that ever again, either, right?"

"No, he can't. But, who's to say that someone else won't come along and do the same thing. It's my fault that Dmitri knew he could get to me that way. What if someone else figures it out, too?"

"We can't worry about that, Neal, unless it happens. There's no way of knowing what part of your past might come back to haunt you. Or what part of my past, for that matter. We can't live our lives worrying about that happening, kid."

"There's _a lot_ in my past that could come back and haunt me, Peter," Neal said angrily. "You have no idea!"

"Neal, listen to me… I know your past is full of bad choices and poor decisions. I know you've involved yourself with a lot of unsavory characters. I know, but I still took you on as a partner. I still introduced you to my wife, let you into my home, let you pet my dog. Do you know why I did that?"

"I'm guessing it's because you've slowly gone insane from all the mortgage fraud cases you've worked," Neal quipped, causing Elizabeth to send a mini glare his way.

"I did that because I trust you, Neal."

"You trust me?" Neal asked incredulously. "After everything that's just happened?"

"Okay, maybe trust isn't the right word right now," Peter admitted. "It's like I said before…. I have faith in you, Neal. Faith in you that whatever you're doing is for a good reason, remember? I know that you thought you were doing the right thing with this whole Dmitri thing, and maybe you had a good idea, but you should have let me in on your plan. We work better as a team."

"I think what my husband is trying to say, Neal, is that the time has come for you to stop thinking that you have to do everything on your own. You have us now."

Neal didn't know what to say, so he just picked at a loose thread on the blanket he was clutching.

"I know you're not used to having people to take care of you, Neal, but you had better get used to it. You're a part of this family now and that means that you'll have to answer to us from now on."

Neal was surprised at the sternness in Elizabeth's voice and by the serious look on her expressive face.

"You should probably make sure you understand exactly what she's saying, Neal. I've never seen her so serious," Peter laughed.

"This isn't funny, Peter Burke!" Elizabeth looked at her husband angrily, causing him to shift uncomfortably where he stood. "I'm trying to get Neal to understand the seriousness of all of this, so you making light of what I'm saying isn't helping."

"I'm sorry, El," Peter said guiltily.

Elizabeth turned back to Neal and caught him wincing in pain. "Are you hurting?" she asked quickly. "When was the last time you took your pain medication?"

"A few hours ago," Neal answered. "It's too early to take anymore."

"You shouldn't be hurting so much already," Elizabeth said. "Maybe we should call the doctor."

"I'm fine, Elizabeth," Neal said in a somewhat convincing tone. "I'm just really tired."

Elizabeth looked at the clock on the mantle and was surprised to see that it was almost midnight. "Well, of course you're tired. It's way past your bedtime."

"I don't have a bedtime," Neal groaned. "I'm a grown man, remember?"

"As long as you're in this house, you _do_ have a bedtime, mister," Elizabeth answered back. "Especially when you're sick."

"I'm not sick, Elizabeth," Neal groaned even louder.

"Yes, you are, young man, so don't argue with me. Peter, help Neal up to his room," Elizabeth ordered.

Peter stepped over to the sofa and pulled an obvious exhausted Neal up to his feet. "You heard her, pal. Up to your room we go."

Neal didn't have the energy to argue, so he allowed Peter to lead him over to the stairway. With each step he took, he leaned on Peter a little more, but he didn't mind. The whole way up to the second floor, he let the words of Peter and Elizabeth wash over him… '_help Neal up to his room'_ and '_up to your room we go.' _

Neal would never admit it, but those were some of the best words he had ever heard.

* * *

Epilogue (part one)

By the time Neal was well enough to return to work, there had been a major shift in his relationship with the Burkes. His relationship with Peter had always had an undercurrent of big brother/little brother with just a dash of a father/son vibe to it, but after everything that had happened and almost a month of living at the Burke residence, things had changed.

Their relationship had definitely shifted permanently into the father/son zone and both of them were completely fine with that. To top that off, Elizabeth's big sister persona had been completely taken over by her newest role….. that of surrogate mother. Neal hadn't ever had a decent mother figure in his life, but that had all changed. Elizabeth had decided to take it upon herself to show Neal just how a mother should act and she took her new role very seriously.

From the moment he got out of bed in the mornings, to the moment he climbed back into it at night, she was there for him. She made sure that he had a healthy breakfast and that he took his morning pills. She made sure that he had clean clothes to wear and fresh sheets on his bed. She made sure that he didn't overdo it, making him sit down and rest any time she thought he looked a little tired. She cooked his favorite meals, baked his favorite desserts, and made sure that she always had his favorite wine on hand.

The thing that amazed Neal, though, was that she didn't only take care of his physical needs. She also took care of him emotionally. In the thirty days that he had stayed at the Burke's house, Neal never once felt unwelcomed or unwanted. The extra bedroom was _his_ bedroom completely. The radio in the kitchen was tuned to his favorite station. The television, more often than not, was turned to the channels that he loved to watch. The bathroom cabinet had his toiletries mixed in with those of Peter and Elizabeth. He even had a chore schedule, much to his chagrin.

Along with everything that made him truly feel like a part of the family, came the extra attention and scrutiny that kept him working hard to stay on the straight and narrow. Suddenly, making sure he didn't disappoint his new family was a top priority, even if he did find it to be an extremely challenging task. And, it seemed to him, that more often than not he failed.

The best part of being part of Family Burke, though, was the unconditional love that filled the house in every moment. Regardless of what kind of day had been had by any of them, regardless of how bad Neal messed something up, there was always love to be had. And, more importantly, forgiveness.

Neal needed a lot of forgiveness, in his opinion. In the beginning, he found it hard to accept the forgiveness that Peter and Elizabeth so freely offered him. Eventually, though, he had no choice but to accept it. Elizabeth was tenacious, to say the least.

When it was finally time for Neal to return to his own home, he did it with a small amount of reluctance. June had been spending a lot of her time visiting her daughters and grandchildren, leaving Neal all alone in the big house. Suddenly, his small apartment seemed too quiet and too empty. It helped when Mozzie returned from his apparent sabbatical, filling the apartment with the comfortable camaraderie they had always found so effortless. But, at night when he was all alone, Neal missed the sounds of the Burke house….. the creaking sounds of the house settling, the hum of the refrigerator directly below his bedroom, Satchmo's gentle breathing whenever he was in Neal's room, the sound of Elizabeth's humming as she straightened up the house before she went to bed. But most of all, he missed the sound of Peter's snoring.

So many nights, he had lain awake in his bed, listening to the sound of Peter snoring just down the hall. Some nights, he had cursed the man for keeping him awake. Some nights, he stayed awake, pondering how he could innocently suggest that the man see a doctor about the snoring without him getting too upset. Other nights, he let the sound lull him into a peaceful sleep, content in the feeling of security that surrounded him.

When the silence became too much for him at night, he would climb out of bed, throw on some old clothes, and take a walk. It was on one of these walks, that Neal finally came to a realization that would forever change his life. For the first time in his life, he well and truly knew that he was loved. He felt it deep within his soul and for the first time allowed himself to truly believe it. For the first time in a very long time, he felt like he deserved so much more than he had ever allowed himself before.

This realization led him to hail a cab and make his way to Brooklyn, excitement and anticipation flowing through his veins. _He needed to see Peter and Elizabeth_.

* * *

Peter woke up to the sound of his phone ringing next to his ear. After taking a few seconds to wake himself up, he reached for the phone and looked at the display. Instantly, he jumped out of bed, tripping over the comforter as he answered the phone.

"This is Burke," he said directly.

"Agent Burke, this is Officer Marland with NYPD Precinct 76."

"Officer Marland, it's three o'clock in the morning. What's going on?"

"Agent Burke, I have a young man here who wanted me to call you. Says his name his Nick Halden."

"Is he okay? What happened?"

"He's okay, sir. A few bumps and bruises, but he's okay."

"Can I talk to him?" Peter asked as he tried to hide the panic in his voice.

A few seconds later, Peter relaxed a little when he heard Neal's voice.

"Hey, Peter," he said rather flippantly.

"Neal! What happened?!"

"Can you come pick me up, Peter? I'm really tired."

"Why won't anyone tell me what's going on?!" Peter yelled in frustration.

By this time, Elizabeth was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her husband closely.

"Just come and get me, Peter, and I'll tell you, okay? I really don't want to stay here any longer than I have to."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Peter said. Turning off the phone, he reached for his pants. As he pulled them on, he turned back to his wife. "I need to go pick Neal up. I have no idea what's going on, but I plan on finding out as soon as I bring him home. Can you make some coffee? I think we'll need it."

Elizabeth stood up and put on her robe. Walking over to Peter, who was trying to find his shoes, she bent over and pulled them out from under the chair. As she handed them to him, she grabbed a hold of his hand, hanging on to it desperately.

"Bring him home, Peter," she said breathlessly.

* * *

When Peter arrived at the Brooklyn precinct, his nerves were completely on edge. Despite the fact that he knew that Neal was okay, he was still nervous to find out what had happened. He had a million questions running through his head, but none more important than the one regarding why Neal was using an alias.

Entering the precinct, he walked quickly up to the counter and asked to speak to Officer Marland. Within minutes, an older man walked out with an air of calm surrounding him.

"Agent Burke? I'm Officer Marland. Follow me, please."

Peter quickly followed the man down a small corridor, stopping just outside of a small room.

"Officer Marland, can you please tell me what happened? I have no idea why Nea….um, Nick is here."

"Agent Burke, a few hours ago, we raided a back room poker game. Nick Halden wasn't playing in the game, but one of my officers found him exiting through the back door. He claims that he was just there to visit an old friend and that he had no idea there was a high stakes poker game going on."

"So, you arrested him?" Peter asked worriedly.

"No, sir. We had no grounds to arrest him, but we did ask him to come to the precinct to answer a few questions. It didn't take long for us to realize that he really didn't know anything about the game. One of the players confirmed that he wasn't on the invite list."

"You said he had a few bumps and bruises. How did _that_ happen?"

"That happened prior to us raiding the place, Agent Burke. He said that he had a little run-in with the old friend he was visiting."

"So, he's free to go?" Peter asked.

"Yes, sir. He insisted that I call you. Do you mind if I ask how you know the kid?"

"Why do you ask?" Peter asked curiously.

Agent Marland gave Peter a smile. "He seems like a nice young man. I could tell right away that he was a little bit of a smooth talker, but underneath that, he looked terrified. Once I told him he was free to go and he asked me to call you, he immediately looked at ease, like you would make everything okay."

Peter didn't quite know how to react to that. "Nick and I have a pretty unique relationship, Officer Marland. It would probably take at least an hour to explain it to you. Suffice it to say that he's like a son to me. A very mischievous and naughty son."

Officer Marland laughed at that. "He definitely has a mischievous look about him."

"You have no idea," Peter answered with an exhausted sigh.

* * *

Neal was completely and utterly exhausted. He was also extremely angry with himself for getting himself into another ridiculous situation. His original intent was to take a cab straight to Peter's, but along the way, he came up with another brilliantly stupid plan.

Years ago, he had come across a high stakes poker game and conned his way into it. He had been pleased to see an old friend of his sitting at the table, especially when he had remembered what a bad poker player the man had been.

After several hours of intense poker playing, the last men standing were Neal and his friend. In a desperate attempt to win the final hand, Neal went all in, hoping that his Ace-high straight would beat his opponent. His opponent called his turn, throwing a beautiful jade necklace onto the table to match the bet.

Neal's hand won, fortunately, but before he could collect his winnings, the police burst through the doors of the establishment. Neal and his friend both ran out the back door, running in different directions to get away. He found out much later on that his friend had grabbed the necklace on the way out of the building. Through the years, he had met up with the man several different times. He always claimed that the necklace was in a safe place and that he had been holding it for Neal through the years, not that Neal actually believed him.

On the way to Peter's, he had had a sudden desire to get the necklace and give it to Elizabeth. Looking back on it now, he realized that it had been a typical, impulsive 'Neal' thing to do, and he was sure that Peter would have something to say about that later. Thanks to Mozzie, who told Neal about the poker game earlier that evening, the idea of the necklace had been planted in his mind. Taking the chance that his friend might be at the poker game, he decided to take a slight detour. Unfortunately, and to Neal's disbelief, the poker game had been raided again. _What were the chances_?

Now, he was sitting inside a police station, waiting for and dreading the moment that the door opened and Peter walked in. He could vividly imagine the look of concern, frustration, and disappointment he would see on the man's face, and he really wasn't looking forward to bearing witness to it.

Before he could think on it anymore, he heard voices outside the room. Sitting up straighter, he quickly ran his fingers through his hair and straightened the collar of his shirt, trying to make himself look like he wasn't worried and nervous. When the door to the room opened, he plastered the best Neal Caffrey grin he could muster onto his face and looked expectantly up at a very intimidating looking Peter Burke.

"Hey, Peter…"

* * *

Author's note: Oh my goodness….. I am so, so sorry for the wait for this chapter. I ran into a little bit of a writer's block because I really wanted to nail the ending of this story. With that being said, this chapter has gotten completely out of control for me. I was attempting to write a little bit of an epilogue, but the characters and story kept taking me in completely different directions. I'm not completely satisfied with this chapter and I really wanted to finish the story, but I think there will be at least one more chapter. I hope that's okay with you all.

Anyway, thank you for being so patient. And thank you so much for sticking with the story. I really hope to have the last chapter up soon. After that, I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to do with my free time.


	49. For All Intents And Purposes

What He Does Best

Chapter 49

* * *

As Peter walked through the door, he caught a quick glimpse of an unusually nervous Neal Caffrey trying to pull himself together. Right before his eyes, the young man transformed into the cool, unflappable, self-confident con-man that kept him on his toes. He had to admit that it was a sight to behold, but it also annoyed him. _Why did Neal always feel the need to put on a show? Why couldn't he just be Neal_?

"Hey, Peter…." Neal said cheerfully, throwing his handler a patented Neal Caffrey grin. "It's good to see you."

Peter started to answer him, but instead he turned to Officer Marland. "Is he free to go, Officer Marland?"

"He is, Agent Burke. We're sorry for any inconvenience this might have caused you. It turns out Mr. Halden really didn't know anything, after all."

Peter sent Neal a knowing look. He suspected that Neal knew more than he had shared with the NYPD and he was anxious to hear what exactly had happened. Outside of the police department, of course.

Motioning for Neal to get up, Peter thanked the officer for his help. Seconds later, he was leading Neal down the hall and out the door. Once they were outside, Neal hurried to catch up with Peter.

"I can explain, Peter," he started.

"That's certainly one good thing you're good at," Peter answered harshly.

Neal didn't know how to respond to that, so he just followed Peter to the car. Once inside the car, he buckled his seatbelt and looked straight ahead, trying not to notice how tightly Peter's jaw was clenched.

Once Peter pulled out of the parking lot, Neal finally spoke again.

"I thought maybe you could just take me home, Peter. It's really late."

"You're coming home with me," Peter answered matter-of-factly. "Elizabeth's waiting up for us."

Neal felt even more guilt-ridden after hearing that. "We could just talk about all of this tomorrow. I know the two of you are probably really tired."

"We're dealing with this tonight, Neal," Peter said irritably.

Neal decided he should just stop talking, so he stared straight ahead again as he watched the familiar sights pass by.

* * *

Peter couldn't believe the gall of the kid. _Did he really think that he was just going to get to go home like nothing had happened?! Did he ever stop to think about the possible consequences of his actions? Was he even capable of controlling his impulses?_

By the time they pulled up in front of the house, Neal was pouting like a mischievous, naughty child that knew he was in trouble. If he wasn't so annoyed, Peter might have found it funny or even a little endearing. Instead, his annoyance bubbled so close to the surface that he found it hard to control it.

Getting out of the car, Peter headed directly into the house, not even looking back to make sure that Neal was following him. He trusted that the kid knew better than to run off. Elizabeth, who had been holding the door open for the two men as they walked up the steps, immediately pulled Neal into her arms.

"Are you okay? What happened?" she asked worriedly, as she looked him over from head to toe.

"I'm fine, Elizabeth," Neal replied sheepishly.

"You are certainly _not_ fine, Neal. It looks like you're going to have a nasty bruise on your cheek and your eye is already turning purple. What in the world were you thinking?!"

"El, let's take this into the living room," Peter suggested.

Seconds later, they were all situated in their usual seats- Neal and Elizabeth on the sofa and Peter sitting on the armchair directly across from them. Neither Peter nor Elizabeth missed how relieved Neal looked as he settled back into the sofa.

Once Satchmo had situated himself comfortably at Neal's feet, Peter continued the conversation.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked. "Some of those bruises look pretty bad."

"I'm fine, Peter," Neal assured. "I've had a lot worse than this, trust me."

Peter didn't look too happy with that statement, but decided to let it slide. "Okay, then…..Why don't you tell us what the hell you were up to?" he asked instead.

Neal looked like he wished that he were anywhere but where he was. He couldn't figure out how the night had started out so good and then ended up so badly. He had had an enjoyable evening with Mozzie, had a sudden epiphany about the fact that Peter and Elizabeth loved him like family, and then everything had gone off the rails. His desire to get that necklace for Elizabeth had come out of left field, for some reason. When he had first climbed into the cab, his every intention was to go directly to the Burke's house, but then he remembered the poker game that Mozzie had told him about. Within a few minutes, his destination changed, which of course changed the whole outcome of what had started out to be a promising affair.

When Neal didn't immediately answer, Peter's annoyance boiled over.

"Neal, what the hell were you doing at a high stakes back room poker game? Do you realize what could have happened if you had been arrested? After everything that's happened, the last thing we need is for you to get caught up in something like that."

"I didn't go there for the poker game, Peter. I swear."

Peter thought that Neal looked like he was telling the truth, but he knew how gifted the kid was in the con man game. After sharing a quick look with his wife, though, he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Okay, then just tell us why you were there. The last time I talked to you tonight, you were at home with Mozzie, enjoying a nice bottle of something expensive. What made you leave home and venture all the way into Brooklyn?"

"I was coming to talk to you," Neal answered after a long pause.

Peter and Elizabeth exchanged another glance.

"Why did you need to talk to us so late at night, Neal?" Elizabeth asked. "Why didn't you just call? Is something wrong? Did something happen?"

Peter and Elizabeth were both surprised to see a blush creep up Neal's neck and cover his face. An embarrassed Neal Caffrey was definitely something they weren't used to seeing and it only served to make them more concerned.

"It's not important," Neal said in a suddenly quiet voice. "I think I just had too much of that expensive wine."

"Nonsense, Neal!" Elizabeth erupted. "Obviously, it was something important enough to make you come clear across the city to see us."

When Neal still didn't answer, Peter interrupted. "Okay, we'll come back to that in a little while. Why don't you tell us how your trip over here involved a side stop at an illegal poker game that was raided by the New York Police Department?"

Neal couldn't stop the groan that escaped him. "I told you, Peter….. I didn't stop there because of the poker game. I knew there was a game going on, but I only stopped there because I needed to talk to an old friend of mine. I had a feeling he would be there."

"Who is this old friend?" Peter asked immediately.

"He's no one you need to worry about, Peter. He's not like Keller. Or Adler. Or Dimitri. He's just an old friend that has something of mine that I wanted to collect."

Peter looked even more upset by that. "This 'something that you wanted to collect"…is it something I should be interested in?"

"Not everything I do is illegal, Peter," Neal answered in a hurtful tone.

"I'm sorry, bud, but you can't blame me for wondering."

Neal knew that Peter was right. Anything that had a tie to his past was circumspect, at best.

Deciding that he was suddenly very sore and very tired, Neal decided to just confess. Staring at the pillow he was clutching with both hands, he finally poured his heart out.

"This friend had something of mine that I very much wanted to give to you, Elizabeth. When I was on my way over here, I remembered that Mozzie told me there was a game going on in the back room of Maggie's Bar. I knew that my friend would most likely be playing, so I asked the cab driver to take me there. When I got there, I immediately went into the back room. My friend was there, but so were a few other acquaintances that weren't as happy to see me. Before I could even ask Dave for what I was after, three of them jumped me."

Elizabeth gasped at hearing that it had been three against one. "Oh, Neal…." she sighed.

Before she could say anything else, Neal continued. "It was looking pretty bad for a few seconds, but then there was a loud bang, followed by the sound of multiple people crashing through the door. I quickly made my way to a door in the very back of the building, only to be greeted by two of New York's finest once I opened it. The rest you know, Peter. I was able to convince them, with the help of Dave, that I just happened to be there by chance and that I wasn't part of the game. Apparently, the waitress also collaborated my story, thank God. Officer Marland asked me to go to the station to answer a few questions, so I did."

Peter exhaustedly ran his hand over his face. "You lucked out tonight, Neal, in several different ways. You're lucky that you had two witnesses that collaborated your story and you're lucky that Officer Marland is a good, honest man. You're also extremely lucky that you weren't hurt worse than you were."

Neal didn't know what to say, so he just sat there, running his fingers through Satchmo's fur. Sometime in the last several minutes, the dog had worked his way closer to Neal and rested his head on Neal's knee. His head jerked up at the sound of Peter suddenly standing up in frustration.

"This _has_ to stop, Neal!" he nearly yelled. "This pattern of behavior _has_ to stop. You have to stop making these impulsive decisions that invariably leave you in dangerous situations."

"Peter…."

"I mean it! Do you have any idea what goes through my mind every time my phone rings in the middle of the night? Do you have any idea how worried we were? We can't keep doing this, Neal. We can't live the rest of our lives like this. It's not healthy. It's not fair."

Neal was speechless. He looked up at Peter in horror, wondering just what it was that the man was trying to say. _What did he mean when he said that they couldn't keep doing this_?

"Peter, I'm sorry. I'm…. I….um…. you don't have to worry about me."

"Don't we?" Peter asked snidely. And then, "We wouldn't have to worry about you if you'd start acting like a rational adult instead of an impetuous, impulsive teenager. We wouldn't have to worry about you if you were capable of making sensible, mature, sane decisions. Instead, we have to worry that your insatiable need for excitement and for beautiful, shiny things will continue to put you in danger day after day. That's going to stop right now, though."

Elizabeth looked nervously between Peter and Neal. She had no idea where her husband was going with this and it scared her a little. By the look on his face, it looked like Neal was feeling just as nervous as she was.

"Peter," Neal said in the saddest voice Elizabeth had ever heard him use. "You can't send me back. Please….."

Peter looked up sharply at the young man that was sitting on his sofa. Despite having seen this young man lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life on several occasions, and despite having watched as he fought against a man that should have loved him, but instead abused him horribly, Peter hadn't ever seen Neal look as vulnerable as he did in that moment. This vulnerability was heartbreaking to the point of actually taking Peter's breath away for a few seconds. He looked over at Elizabeth, only to find her just as devastated by Neal's current state.

"Neal…."

"I can't go back," Neal interrupted with a quiet desperation. "I won't survive it this time, Peter. I need….."

"Neal, no one said anything about sending you back, kid," Peter tried to explain.

"You said you couldn't keep doing this," Neal continued. "You said it was going to stop. I can't go back, Peter. Please don't give up on me. I promise I'll change….."

"Sweetie, we're not giving up on you." Elizabeth felt like her heart was being cleaved into two separate pieces as she bore witness to the total devastation on Neal's face. Grabbing his hands, she pulled him closer to her. "We won't ever give up on you, Neal Caffrey! Right, Peter?"

"Of course not, Neal. I didn't mean that we were going to give up on you and send you back to prison. Please tell me that you know I didn't mean that!"

Now, Elizabeth's heart was breaking at the desperation she heard in _Peter's_ voice. Not for the first time, she wondered why these two men were so bad at communication.

"What I meant, Neal, was that you have to stop acting so rashly and so irresponsibly. You have to stop being so impulsive and you _absolutely _have to start remembering that Elizabeth and I would be devastated if something happened to you."

"And so many others would be devastated, too, Neal," Elizabeth added.

"So, you're not sending me back to prison?" Neal asked in a still unsure voice.

"I'm not and I never will, Neal. So, you know what that means, right?"

Neal had absolutely no idea what Peter meant. It was obvious by the look on his face that he was completely at a loss as to what to say.

"I'm afraid to ask," he finally answered.

He was surprised when it was Elizabeth who answered next and found himself wondering, not for the first time, if husband and wife shared some type of telekinetic connection.

"What that means, Neal, is that from now on Peter and I are going to make sure that there are consequences to your actions. Unpleasant consequences, if need be."

Neal and Peter both looked at Elizabeth, wondering what exactly she meant by "unpleasant consequences." Elizabeth nearly laughed at the look of awe on her husband's face and the look of horror on Neal's.

"Unpleasant consequences?" Neal asked.

"Yes, young man. Very unpleasant consequences. Peter, do you remember me telling you the story of the summer I spent at my great-grandmother's house?"

Peter immediately started chuckling at the memory of that story. "Oh, those were definitely some unpleasant consequences," he laughed.

By this time, Neal was looking more nervous than ever.

"When I was eleven years old, my parents, my grandparents, and my aunt and uncle went on an extended trip to Europe. My cousins and I spent six weeks with my paternal great-grandmother. We barely knew her, but we learned really quickly that she didn't put up with any nonsense. Whenever we got into trouble, she made sure that we had enough chores to keep us busy from sun-up to sundown. And wherever she went, she had a rather large wooden spoon sticking out of her apron pocket or her purse. I only had one run-in with the nasty thing and I immediately decided that whatever mischief or nonsense we could get into wasn't worth another dose of it. My cousins, on the other hand, rarely sat comfortably that whole summer."

"Why are you telling me this, Elizabeth?" Neal asked with a laugh.

"I'm not done yet, Neal. Anyway, my great-grandmother and I ended up becoming rather close after that summer. She was diagnosed with cancer the year after Peter and I got married. When she died a year later, she left me several things in her will. One of those things was that large wooden spoon. In a letter she wrote to me, she said that she was giving it to me to use on my future children. She said that she hoped that if I ever had need to use it on my own child, the lesson would be learned as quickly as I had learned mine all those years ago."

Neal hated to see the look of longing on Elizabeth's face. He had always wondered why Peter and Elizabeth never had any children of their own, but he had never asked. In his heart, he knew that any kid lucky enough to be their's would be the luckiest kid on earth. Even if they had to face the wrath of Elizabeth Burke and her wooden spoon.

With a sudden realization, Neal looked at Elizabeth in surprise. "Wait a minute…..That's what you mean by unpleasant consequences? Seriously?"

"It sounds pretty unpleasant, doesn't it?" Elizabeth asked.

Neal looked at Peter as if to say "Do something!"

Instead, Peter just laughed at the look on his partner's face. "It definitely sounds unpleasant to me."

Neal looked between the two of them, unsure if he should be taking them seriously or not. Before he could make up his mind, Peter started talking again.

"Listen up, Neal. I'm going to be completely honest with you right now and I would appreciate your honesty in return. Maybe Elizabeth and I have completely misread the situation, but I don't think so. When I originally made this deal with you, I made it out of a sense of respect and admiration. I admired your brilliant mind and the thought of you wasting that brilliance locked up in a prison cell for years and years was unacceptable to me. I also respected your loyalty. As time when on, that respect and admiration grew. Suddenly, and somewhat without my consent, you were sitting on my couch, talking to my wife and petting my dog. Somehow, you insinuated yourself into my personal life and you became more than just a consultant. More than just a partner. Through the years, I've watched you struggle to become the man I always knew you could be, Neal. Elizabeth and I have watched you succeed and we've watched you fail. We've watched you pull yourself up through things that no person should ever have to experience. We've watched you do amazing things and we've watched you do some really stupid things."

Neal looked like he might argue that last point, but he kept his mouth shut. He wasn't sure if he could even make an articulate sound anyway. Instead, he kept his eyes on Peter.

"Through all of this, Elizabeth and I began to think of you as family. This shouldn't be a surprise to you, buddy, because we've told you this before. But, I'm not sure you ever actually allowed yourself to believe it. Well, that stops now, too. From this point forward, if you take any single thing away from this conversation, you will know, deep within your heart, that you, Neal Caffrey, are a part of this family. Through thick or thin, through good times or bad, in sickness and in health, you are our family. Is that clear enough for you, Neal? Do you truly understand exactly what it is we're saying?"

Neal still looked like he was at a loss for words, but after several long seconds of silence, he spoke.

"Do you want to know why I was on my way over here tonight?" he asked quietly. "I was sitting at home, all alone in my apartment after Mozzie left, feeling a little sorry for myself. After staying here with you, it was hard for me to go back to being alone in that huge house. When June is there, it's fine. But, when I'm all alone….. when I don't hear a single sound other that my own heart beating, my mind starts to go down dark paths. Lately, I've been taking walks in the night. I just felt like I needed to be a part of something, you know? New York has a heartbeat of its own and these late night walks made me feel less lonely."

Elizabeth looked as if her heart was breaking again. Peter didn't look much better.

"Why didn't you say anything, Neal? You know you're always welcome here, right?" Peter asked.

"I know, Peter. But, you and Elizabeth have your own life. The last thing you need is an ex-con sacking out on your couch and drinking your wine."

"Neal George Caffrey! In this house, you are _not_ an ex-con. You're family!"

"I know," Neal said gently. "And that's why I was coming over here. I went for a walk tonight and for the first time I really, truly realized that to you I wasn't just an ex-con. I finally realized that you both love me like family and I finally allowed myself to accept that. I finally allowed myself to believe and accept that you're my family."

Neal kept his eyes focused on the top of Satchmo's head, completely aware that if he looked up at Peter and Elizabeth he wouldn't be able to control his emotions. It was hard enough seeing Satchmo looking up at him with a look of total adoration and love. After several long seconds, he finally risked a quick look up at Elizabeth. He wasn't surprised to see that her eyes were filled with tears or that they were freely flowing down her face. Taking his eyes off of her, he slid them over to where Peter had been standing. He was surprised to see that the man was now sitting back in his armchair. He was even more surprised to see the tears that were filling his eyes, too.

"Peter…."

Without a word, Peter stood up and walked over to Neal. Without a word, he pulled Neal to his feet and wrapped his arms around him. Neal allowed himself to relax into the strong arms of his handler. This wasn't the first time they had shared a hug, but it was definitely the first time they had shared so much of themselves with each other. Neal could feel the slight shudders that were racking Peter's body, and suddenly all of his defenses shattered, too.

At some point, Elizabeth joined their embrace. None of them knew how much time had passed, but eventually they reluctantly broke apart. All three of them sank into the sofa- Peter and Elizabeth on the ends and Neal squeezed firmly in between them. They sat like that for a while, emotionally and physically exhausted, until finally Peter spoke again.

"Thank you," he said simply.

"For what?" Neal asked.

"For being honest. I know it's not easy for you to let people in, Neal. I know it's even harder for you to allow yourself to believe that you deserve what everyone else in this world deserves. Thank you for letting us give you what you deserve. El and I never had the chance to become parents. We eventually got to the point where we accepted that, but it's never been easy."

Elizabeth took over from Peter. "Peter and I have always been so blessed, but not being able to have children left a gaping hole in both of us. When you came along, you filled that hole, Neal. I know you're not a child and that we're not old enough to be your parents, but I can't help the way I feel. I want to show you what it's like to have a mother that loves you. I want to take care of you. You're not a child, but you're the child of my heart, Neal. I hope that's okay with you."

Neal, once again, was completely speechless.

"Well, I guess if Elizabeth is your mother, for all intents and purposes, that makes me your father. So, what do you say, Junior? Should we go throw a baseball around tomorrow?"

Peter and Elizabeth both noticed the shadow of sadness that passed quickly over Neal's face. Before they could say anything, Neal laughed. "I'm honored that the two of you love me like I'm your child. Does that mean I get an allowance?"

"What that means, Junior, is that from this point forward you answer to me," Peter said. Elizabeth cleared her throat and Peter quickly added something. "And to Elizabeth."

"I'm not really sure how that's any different from the way it's been," Neal replied. "And stop calling me Junior."

"Oh, trust me….it's different," Peter said with a yawn. "We'll talk more about that tomorrow, though. It's almost four o'clock in the morning."

Elizabeth looked sternly at Neal. "Up to bed. It's been a long day."

Neal had no intention of arguing. He was completely and utterly exhausted and his bruises were really starting to ache. Following Peter up the stairs, he made his way into his room, gathered up a pair of pajamas he had previously left there, and headed into the bathroom. Ten minutes later, he made it back into his room and was surprised to see Peter and Elizabeth waiting for him. He was a little embarrassed to see that Elizabeth had turned his bed down and looked like she was all ready to tuck him in. He would never admit it, but he reveled in Elizabeth's TLC. He just wished that Peter wasn't there to witness it. _How was he ever going to get the man to take him seriously after he had seen him being tucked into bed like a five year old?_

Once he was settled into bed, Elizabeth handed him a glass of water and some pills. "Here you go, sweetie. I thought you might like some Ibuprofen to help with the pain from those bruises."

"Thanks, Elizabeth," Neal said gratefully.

"Get some sleep, Neal," Peter said with a smile. "Tomorrow's going to be a busy day."

"What's going on tomorrow?" Neal asked cautiously.

"Well, we have that stakeout in the morning, remember? And then that meeting with the curator of the Whitney Museum. After that, we're going to come home, enjoy a nice dinner, and talk a little more about everything."

"Don't forget, Peter, that I need a little help, too," Elizabeth said with a mischievous grin.

"What do you need help with, Elizabeth?" Neal asked suspiciously.

"I thought maybe you could help me go through a few boxes down in the basement, Neal. I seem to have misplaced something that my great-grandmother once gave me. I think I may be needing it in the near future."

* * *

Author's note: Oh my word, this chapter was extremely hard to write. It took me forever to get it started and then I just couldn't stop.

I'm a little sad to say goodbye to this story. I really hope that you enjoyed the ending and that you all think that it did justice to our favorite characters. Nothing much makes me happier than dabbling in this amazing universe and I am so thankful to the creators of White Collar for giving us such an awesome story.

Thank you all so much for sticking with me through this 49 chapter story. You guys are all amazing and I have appreciated every person who has read, favorited, and reviewed this. I'm not sure what I'm doing next, other than finishing up my last Let Your Heart Hold Fast segment. Any ideas for me?

Take care, all.


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